/* ^ 



'SIS 



&JL^ 






OF THE PRINCIPLES OP 



RHETORICAL. DELIVERY 



A3 APPLIED IN 



READING AND SPEAKING. 



BY EBENEZER JJORTER, D. D. 

President of the Theological Seminary, Andover.— Author of the " Rhetorical 
Reader," etc. 



FOURTH EDITION. /& 




ANDOVER : 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY FLAGG & GOULD. 

BOSTON : 

CROCKER & BREWSTER; RICHARDSON, LORD & HOLBROOK; 

AND LINCOLN & EDMANDS. 

NEW-YORK : 
J. LEAVITT, No. 182, BROADWAY. 

FOR SALE BY THEM, AND BY J. S. AND C. ADAMS, AMHERST, MASS. 
JOHN GRIGG, PHILADELPHIA, AND J. JEWETT, AND CUSH1NG AND 
SOWS, BALTIMORE. 

1831, 



is3l 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, bj FLAGG &. GOULD, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 






/ 



S'V 



ADVERTISEMENT 



TO THE FOURTH EDITION. 



Si 



The author of this work originally considered it as an ex- 
periment on public opinion, respecting a department of in- 
struction, in which diversities of taste have had more scope 
for exercise than in almost any other. His best hopes there- 
fore have been far exceeded by the speedy demand for a 
third edition, and now again for a fourth, and by other une- 
quivocal marks of favor with which the publication has 
been generally received. This edition is reprinted, page 
for page from the third, with only the correction of typo- 
graphical and other small errors, which were occasioned 
by mistake. The peculiar character of the book is such 
that breaking up its identity as to order of references, would 
render it impossible for all the editions to be advantageously 
used, by the same class. It has for some time been the 
Author's intention to forego this consideration, for the sake of 
making some changes on several points, similar to those he 
has adopted in a later and smaller work, entitled the Rhe- 
torical Reader. But the third edition being unexpected- 
ly exhausted, the call for a fourth to be in market immedi- 
ately, allowed no time for the above changes. Should an- 
other edition be called for, the improvements just alluded 
to will be incorporated, and any others, which may render 
the work more valuable. 



IV ADVERTISEMENT. 



In the foregoing editions of this work, the Author an- 
nounced his purpose, in compliance with repeated requests 
from different quarters, to prepare a smaller work on the 
same general principles ; for the use of Academies and 
High Schools. This purpose he has accomplished, in the 
recent publication of the Rhetorical Reader, mention- 
ed above. Should this latter work be found to render the 
same aid to an important department of education in Acad- 
emies, which respectable Instructors of Colleges profess to 
have derived from the Analysis, as a Class-Book for their 
pupils, the Author will consider his labors of this sort as 
closed ; except that, as a proper sequel to both, he may 
probably compile a separate collection of Biblical Exer- 
cises, of about 150 pages, with a rhetorical notation. 
This sequel will have reference, not merely to the in- 
struction of the young, but primarily to parents and preach- 
ers of the gospel, who ought so to read the Bible, in fami- 
lies or public assemblies, as to make the manner of reading 
a commentary on the sense. 

Theological Seminary, ) 
Andover, Oct. 1831. J 



PREFACE- 



DELIVERY is but a part of rhetoric ; and rhetoric, in the 
common acceptation of the term, is but a part of the business 
in which I am called to give instruction. The great pur- 
pose of my office is, to teach young men, who are prepar- 
ing for the sacred ministry, how to preach the gospel. In 
pursuance of this purpose, it became my duty to give a 
course of lectures on eloquence generally, and more partic- 
ularly on style ; and another course on preaching, includ- 
ing the history of the pulpit, and the structure and chief 
characteristics of sermons, and the personal qualities re- 
quisite in the Christian preacher. Besides the study de- 
manded in traversing a field so important, and so unfre- 
quented, at least in this country ; the necessity of combin- 
ing individual with classical instruction in this department, 
makes its labors more than sufficient to engross the time of 
one man. 

In these circumstances, it may seem strange that I should 
turn aside from higher duties, to publish a book, more adapt- 
ed to the earlier stages of education than to that which is 
directly preparatory to the ministry. The truth is, that I 
have been gradually and almost unavoidably drawn into this 
measure. 

As an instructor of theological students, my attention 
was, many years ago, called to some prevalent defects in de- 
livery. These I ascribed chiefly to early habits, contracted 
in the schools; and to the want of adequate precepts in 
books on reading and speaking. The worst faults in elocu- 
tion, originate in want of feeling. But when these faults be- 
come confirmed, no degree of feeling will fully counteract 
their influence, without the aid of analysis, and patient ef- 
fort to understand and correct them. Still, in this process 
of correction, there is danger of running into formality of 
manner, by withdrawing the attention from that in which 
the soul of eloquence consists, — emotion. For the purpose 
of guarding against this tendency, and at the same time of 
accomplishing the ends at which Walker aims, in his Ele- 
1* 






Tl PREFACE. 



ments of Elocution, I have much desired to see a manual 
for students, free both from the obscurity and the extreme 
particularity of his system. 

In the winter of 1821, during a necessary absence from 
the Theological Seminary, on account of health, I address- 
ed to the students a number of letters on elocution. The 
plan of these letters* required them to embrace all the sub- 
jects included in this publication, and besides these, the fol- 
lowing ; — the importance to a preacher of a good delivery ; 
necessity of earnestness in his manner ; causes which influ- 
ence his intellectual and moral habits ; the influence of per- 
sonal piety on the preacher's eloquence ; circumstances of 
the age, which are unfavorable, and those which are favor- 
able to the cultivation of eloquence; the utility of prepara- 
tory exercises, with hints of advice relative to these ; pre- 
servation of lungs, and the mistakes that are often fatal to 
this organ in public speakers ; pronunciation as restricted 
to single words ; and management of voice in public prayer. 

One of these papers, that on inflections, was since com- 
mitted to the press-; and, though not intended to be pub- 
lished, yet having been circulated to a considerable extent, 
some respectable individuals requested that I would enlarge 
and reprint this pamphlet ; and others, that I would pub- 
lish a book, for the use of Colleges, and of students gene- 
rally who are forming their habits of elocution. In this 
wish the Rhetorical Society in the Theological Seminary 
united ; and their committee addressed letters to several of 
the Presidents of Colleges, and to other gentlemen, to as- 
certain whether such a publication was deemed necessary, 
by those who are most interested in the subject. In reply, 
to this inquiry, a concurrent opinion was expressed, that our 
Seminaries of learning greatly need a work on Elocution, 
different in many respects from any thing hitherto publish- 
ed ; and a concurrent wish that I should proceed in the 
preparation of such a work, was also expressed, though with 
different degrees of interest by different gentlemen. 

I have been the more ready to engage in this undertaking, 
from the conviction that, whatever aid it may render to In- 
structors of our Academical Seminaries, and whatever use- 

* Some of them I have since thrown into Lectures, with enlargement. 



PREFACE. VII 

ful influence it may have on the pupils of these Seminaries, 
will be a clear gain in my own official duties, in respect to 
such of these pupils as may afterward come under my in- 
struction. The fewer bad habits are carried from elemen- 
tary schools to the college, and from the college to profes- 
sional studies, the easier at each stage becomes the pro- 
gress of improvement. And the more deeply the spirit of 
improvement in Elocution takes hold of young men, in our 
literary institutions, the greater will be their annual contri- 
bution of eloquent men for the pulpit, as well as for secular 
professions. The fifteen years in which I have been con- 
nected with a Theological Seminary, which receives its 
members from all the Colleges, have enabled me to observe, 
as I have done with much satisfaction, a gradual and grow- 
ing advance, in our educated young men, as to the spirit of 
delivery. This advance has been especially obvious since 
several of these Colleges have had able Professors of Rhet- 
oric and Oratory, a department of instruction in which it is 
presumed none of them can much longer remain deficient, 
consistently with the claims of public opinion. 

Had I been fully aware of the labor it would require to 
select the examples, and apply the notation, in the first part 
of the Exercises, I should have been deterred from the un- 
dertaking. With much pleasure I acknowledge my obli- 
gations to Mr. George Howe and Mr. Samuel C. Jackson, 
for the important assistance they have rendered, especially 
in correcting the press, and selecting pieces for the second 
part of the Exercises. This assistance has been the more 
necessary on account of my infirm health, and the urgency 
of official duties. 

I add only two remarks here. One is, that I consider 
this little book as an experiment, on a subject environed 
with difficulty, both from the inadequate attention it has 
hitherto received, in our systems of education, and from the 
prevalence of conflicting tastes respecting it. The other is, 
that, having transferred all pecuniary concern in this pub- 
lication to the Rhetorical Society abovementioned, I have 
no personal interest in its success, beyond the hope that it 
may, in some degree, promote the purposes to which my 
life is devoted. 



DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 



To those who may use this book, I have thought it pro- 
per to make the following preparatory suggestions. 

1. In a large number of those who are to be taught 
reading and speaking, the first difficulty to be encountered 
arises from bad habits previously contracted. The most 
ready way to overcome these, is to go directly into the anal- 
ysis of vocal sounds, as they occur in conversation. But to 
change a settled habit, even in trifles, often requires per- 
severance for a long time ; of course it is not the work of a 
moment, to transform a heavy, uniform manner of delivery, 
into one that is easy, discriminating, and forcible. This is 
to be accomplished, not by a few irresolute, partial attempts, 
but by a steadiness of purpose and of effort, corresponding 
with the importance of the end to be achieved. Nor should 
it seem strange if, in this process of transformation, the sub- 
ject of it should at first appear somewhat artificial and con- 
strained in manner. More or less of this inconvenience is 
unavoidable, in all important changes of habit. The young 
pupil in chirography never can become an elegant penman, 
till his bad habit of holding his pen is broken up; though 
for a time the change may make him write worse than be- 
fore. In respect to Elocution, as well as every other art, 
the case may be in some measure similar. But let the new 
manner become so familiar, as to have in its favor the ad- 
vantages of habit, and the difficulty ceases. 

2. The pupil should learn the distinction of inflections, 
by reading the familiar examples under one rule, occasion- 
ally turning to the Exercises, when more examples are ne- 



DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. IX 

cessary ; and the Teacher's voice should set him right 
whenever he makes a mistake. In the same manner, he 
should go through all the rules successively. If he acquires 
the habit of giving too great or too little extent to his slides 
of voice, he should be carefully corrected, according to the 
suggestions given, p. 43, 50,51, and 88. — After getting the 
command of the voice, the great point to be steadily kept in 
view, is to apply the principles of emphasis and inflection, 
just as nature and sentiment demand. In respect to those 
principles of modulation, in which the power of delivery so 
essentially consists, we should always remember too, that, 
as no theory of the passions can teach a man to be pathetic, 
so no description that can be given of the inflection, em- 
phasis, and tones, which accompany emotion, can impart 
this emotion, or be a substitute for it. No adequate des- 
cription indeed can be given of the nameless and ever vary- 
ing shades of expression, which real pathos gives to the 
voice. Precepts here are only subsidiary helps to genius 
and sensibility. 

3. Previous attention should be given to any example 
or exercise, before it is read to the Teacher. At the time 
of reading, the student should generally go through, with- 
out interruption ; and then the Teacher should explain any 
fault, and correct it by the example of his own voice, re- 
quiring the parts to be repeated. It would be useful often 
to inquire why such a modification of voice occurs, in such 
a place, and how a change of structure would vary the in- 
flection, stress, &c. When the examples are short, as in 
all the former part of the work, reference may easily be 
made to any sentence ; and in the long examples, the lines 
are numbered, on the left hand of the page, to facilitate the 
reference, after a passage has been read. 

4. When any portion of the Exercises is committed to 



DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 



memory for declamation, it should be perfectly committed, 
before it is spoken ; as any labor of recollection is certainly 
fatal to freedom, and variety, and force in speaking. In 
general it were well that the same piece should be subse- 
quently once or more repeated, with a view to adopt the 
suggestions of the Instructer. The selected pieces are 
short, because, for the purpose of improvement in elocution, 
a piece of four or five minutes, is better than one of fifteen. 
And more advance may be made, in managing the voice 
and countenance, by speaking, several times, a short speech, 
though an old one, like that of Brutus on the death of Cae- 
sar, (if it is done with due care each time to correct what 
was amiss,) than in speaking many long pieces, however 
spirited or new, which are but half committed, and in the 
delivery of which all scope of feeling and adaptation of 
manner, are frustrated by labor of memory. The attempt 
to speak with this indolent, halting preparation, is in all 
respects worse than nothing. 



LOn uO'. uor- UC> uC. U3-1 uGTi uOr. -uOn u&l O 

KEY OP RHETORICAL NOTATION. § 

§ § 



| Key of Inflection. 
§ - denotes monotone. 

| ^ rising inflection. 

§ v falling inflection. 

| w circumflex. 

§ Key of Modulation. 
I ( ° ) high. 



) high and loud, 

o ) low. 

00 ) low and loud. 

•• ) slow. § 

= ) quick. 

— ) plaintive. § 

) rhetorical pause. | 



CONTENTS. 



page. 

CHAP. I. Reading: its connexion with speaking . . 13 

Correct reading 14 



CHAP. II. 

Sect. 1 
Sect. 2 



Rhetorical Reading 

Difficulties from the genius of written language 

All directions subsidiary to expression of feeling 

Articulation ....... 

Importance of a good articulation 

Causes of defective articulation . . . 

Difficulty of many consonant sounds . . 

Immediate succession of similar sounds 

Influence of accent ...... 

Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels . 

Cautions ........ 

Impediments ....... 

Tones and Inflections . 

Tones considered as a language of emotion 

Utility of systematic attention to Tones and In- 
flections ..... 

Description of Inflections 

Classification of Inflections . 

Influence of disjunctive or on Inflection 

Of the Direct Question and its Answer 

Of Negation opposed to Affirmation 

Of the Pause of Suspension 

Of the influence of Tender Emotion on the 

Of the Penultimate Pause . 
Rule VII. Of the Indirect Question and its Answer 
RuLEVHI.The language of Authority and of Surprise 
Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars 
Rule X. Emphatic Repetition .... 

Rule XI. Final Pause 

Rule XII. The Circumflex . 



JHAP. III. 


Sect. 


1. 


Sect. 


2. 


Sect. 


3. 


Sect 


4. 


Rule 


I. 


Rule 


II. 


Rule 


Ill 


Rule IV 


Rule 


V. 


Rule 


VI 



15 
15 
18 
20 
20 
23 
25 
27 
28 
29 
30 
32 
34 
34 

35 
42 
45 
47 
47 
49 
51 
54 
55 
56 
57 
60 
62 
63 
65 



XII 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. IV. 
CHAP. V. 
Sect. 1. 



Sect. 2. 



CHAP. VI. 
Sect. 1. 



Sect. 2. 



Sect. 3. 
Sect. 4. 



Sect 


5. 


Sect. 


6. 


Sect 


7. 


Sect 


8. 


Sect 


9. 


Sect 


10. 


HAP. VII. 


PART 


I. 


Sect. 


1. 


Sect. 


2. 


PART II 



Stress 



Accent 

Emphasis " . 

Emphatic Stress 

Absolute emphatic stress 

Antithetic or Relative Empl 

Emphatic Inflection 

Emphatic Clause 

Double Emphasis 

Modulation 

Faults of Modulation 

Monotony . 

Mechanical Variety 

Remedies 

The spirit of Emphasis to be cultivated 

A habit of discrimination as to Tones and Inflect 

Pitch of voice ...... 

Quantity ....... 

Strength of voice important to a public speaker 
Depends on good organs of speech 



66 

69 

71 

76 

78 

80 

88 

91 

92 

92 

92 

93 

95 

95 

ion 99 

103 

106 

107 

108 



And on the proper exercise of these organs 109 

Directions for preserving and strengthening them 110 

112 
114 
118 
120 
125 
128 
133 



Rate of utterance 

Rhetorical Pause 

Compass of Voice 

Transition ...... 

Expression ..... 

Representation .... 

The Reading of Poetry 

Remarks on the reading of Psalms and Hymns 

the pulpit .... 
Rhetorical Action . 
Principles of Rhetorical Action . 
Action as significant from nature 
Expression of countenance 
Attitude and mien 

Action considered as significant from custom 
Faults of Rhetorical Action . 
Sources of these, viz. personal defects, diffidence, 

imitation . . 

Mismanagement of the eye and of attitude 



138 
144 
146 
146 
146 
148 
151 
152 

152 
155 



CONTENTS. XIII 



Gesture may want appropriateness and discrimination 158 
May be too constant, or violent, or complex or uniform 160 
Mechanical variety • • 162 



EXERCISES. 

PART I. 

Remarks and Directions . . 167 

EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 

Exercises 1, 2, 3 169 

EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 

Exercise 4. Disjunctive or . . . ■ . ~ . . 170 

5. Direct Question &c. .. 171 

6. Conjunctive or . . . . . 174 

7. Negation opposed to affirmation . . . ib. 

8. Comparison and Contrast ..... 176 

■ 9. Pause of Suspension . . . . .180 

10. Tender Emotion . 187 

12. Indirect Question &e. . . . . . 189 

-13. Language of Authority, Surprise, &c. . . 193 

14. Emphatic Succession &c 199 

15. Emphatic Repetition 203 

EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
Exercise 19, 20, 21, 22. Absolute and Relative stress, and Em- 
phatic Inflection 205 

23. Difference between common & Intensive Inflection 226 

EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 

Exercise 24. Compass of voice 227 

25. Transition 232 

The power of Eloquence . . . . ib. 

Hohenlinden 234 

Hamlet's Soliloquy 235 

Battle of Waterloo 236 

Negro's Complaint 238 

Marco Bozzaris . 240 

Extract from Paradise Lost 242 

1 






XIV CONTENTS. 






Exercise 26. Expression 243 

Judah's Speech to Joseph ..... ib. 

Joseph disclosing himself 244 

Death of a friend 246 

The Sabbath ib. 

Burial of Sir John Moore 248 

Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise . . - 249 

Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle .... 250 

27. Representation 251 

Examples from the Bible ib. 

The siege of Calais 256 

Extract from a sermon of R. Robinson . . 258 

28. Devotional poetry ...... 259 

Extracts from the Psalms and Hymns of Watts . 260 

Missionary Hymn 266 



EXERCISES. 

PART II. 

FAMILIAR PIECES. 

Hamlet's instruction to Players . . . Shakspeare. 267 

The dead Mother Anon. 268 

The Temptation 269 

Partiality of Authors Cecil. 270 

What is Time ? Marsden. 271 

Ruth, and Naomi Cecil. 272 

Influence of Education, Constitution, &c. on Character Cecil, ib. 

Death of Absalom 274 

Hamlet and Horatio . . . . . Shakspeare. 275' 

An idea of Faith impressed on a Child ". . . Cecil. 278 

Conversation Coicper. 279 

Conversation ....*.... Coicpcr. ib. 

Lady Percy to her Husband .... Shakspeare. 281 

Exercise of the Memory in learning not sufficient Campbell. 282 

Casabianca Mrs. Hemans. 283 

Fitz James and Roderick Dhu TV. Scott. 284 

Address to the Mummy 285 

Othello and Iago Shakspeare. 287 



CONTENTS. 



XV 



Macduff . . . 
William Tell . 
Nathan's Parable 
Harmony among Brethren 
Harley's Death 
To-Morrow 



Ibid. 289 

. 290 

.295 

. Percival. ib. 

Mackenzie. 297 

Cotton. 299 



SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 



Sheridan. 

Webster. 

Everett. 

Gray. 

Byron. 

Webster. 

Shakspeare. 

Ames. 



Webster. 
Shakspeare. 



The perfect Orator . 

Character of True Eloquence 

The Pilgrims . . . 

The Progress of Poesy 

Darkness 

The Slave Trade . 

Dream of Clarence 

Moral Sublimity 

Character of Brutus 

Conclusion of Webster's Plymouth Discourse 

Address to the Patriots of the Revolution 

Brutus' Speech 

Chatham's Speech 

Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis 

Pitt's Reply to Walpole . 

Speech of Mr. Griffin against Cheetham 

Thunder Storm . ... 

Slavery ...... 

Irruption of Hyder Ali 

Apostrophe to Sleep 

Vanity of Power and Misery of Kings 

Reproof of the Irish Bishops . 

Speech on the Greek Revolution . 

Character of Hamilton 

State of the French Republic . 

Cicero for Cluentius 

Extract from Demosthenes 

Brougham's Speech on the Speech of the Duke of York 

Dangers which beset the Literature of the Age . Story 

Tribute to Henry Kirk White .... Byron, 



Cowper. 

Burke. 

Shakspeare. 

Ibid. 

Grattan. 

Webster. 

Ames. 

Grattan. 



301 
302 

ib. 
305 
306 
308 
310 
312 
313 
315 
316 
317 
318 
320 
322 
324 
326 
327 
328 
330 

ib. 
331 
333 
334 
336 
338 
340 
342 
344 
34G 



XVI 



CONTENTS. 



SACRED ELOQUENCE. 



Defence of Pulpit Eloquence 
The Blind Preacher 



Anon. 347 
Wirt. 350 
Joel 2: 1—11 352 



2 Samuel 1 : 17—27 

Revelation . Coicpcr. 

Daniel 9 : 3—19 

Success of the Gospel Wayland. 

Events of Providence promotive of the end of Missions James. 
The hatefulness of War ..... Chalmers. 

The Preservation of the Church .... Mason. 
Obligations to the Pilgrims .... IVhelpley. 

A future State Thompson. 

Present Facilities for evangelizing the World compared with 

those of Primitive times .... Beecher. 

Civilization merely, ineffectual to convert the World James. 
The Forebodings of Heathen approaching Death . Ibid. 

The Efficacy of the Cross 



The Fall of Niagara 

Reform in Morals 

Universal Spread of the Bible 

Isaiah 13: 14: 1—23 . 

Eternity of God 

Epitaph on Mrs Mason 

Skepticism 

The Atheist 

Duelling . 

Character of the Puritans 

An enlightened Ministry 

Prayer 

Gray's Elegy . 

Obligation to the Heathen 

Infatuation of Men with regard 

Death of Hamilton . 

The Crucifixion 



to Things of Time 



Ibid. 

Brainerd. 

Beecher. 

Maxwell. 

Greenwood. 



Campbell. 

Foster. 

Beecher. 

Edinb. Rev. 

Channing. 

Jerem. Taylor. 



Griffin. 

Kirwan. 

JYott. 

Bossuet. 



353 
354 
355 
356 
358 
359 
361 
363 
364 

365 
367 
369 
370 
373 

ib. 
375 
378 
383 
385 

ib. 
387 
388 
390 
393 
394 
395 
397 
399 
401 
402 



CHAPTER I. 



READING. ITS CONNEXION WITH SPEAKING. 



Delivery, in the most general sense, is the commu- 
nication of our thoughts to others, by oral language. The 
importance of this, in professions where it is the chief in- 
strument by which one mind acts on others, is so obvious 
as to have given currency to the maxim, that an indiffer- 
ent composition well delivered, is better received in any 
popular assembly, than a superior one, delivered badly. 
In no point is public sentiment more united than in this, 
that the usefulness of one whose main business is public 
speaking, depends greatly on an impressive elocution. 
This taste is not peculiar to the learned or the ignorant ; 
it is the taste of all men. 

But the importance of the subject, is by no means 
limited to public speakers. In this country, where lite- 
rary institutions of every kind are springing up ; and 
where the advantages of education are open to all, no 
one is qualified to hold a respectable rank in well-bred 
ociety, who is unable at least to read, in an interesting 
nanner, the works of others. They who regard this as 
2 



14 READING. 



a polite accomplishment merely, forget to how many pur- 
poses of business, of rational entertainment, and of reli- 
gious duty, the talent may be applied. Of the multitudes 
who are not called to speak in public, including the whole 
of one sex, and all but comparatively a few of the other, 
there is no one to whom the art of reading in a graceful 
and impressive manner, may not be of great value. 

Besides, as the prevalent faults of public speakers 
arise chiefly from early habits contracted in reading, the 
correction of those faults should begin by learning to read 
well. 

Reading then, like style, may be considered as of two 
sorts, the correct, and the rhetorical. 

Correct reading respects merely the sense of what is 
read. When performed audibly, for the benefit of others, 
it is still only the same sort of process which one performs 
silently, for his own benefit, when he casts his eye along 
the page, to ascertain the meaning of its author. The 
chief purpose of the correct reader is to be intelligible ; 
and this requires an accurate perception of grammatical 
relation in the structure of sentences ; a due regard to 
accent and pauses, to strength of voice, and clearness of 
utterance. This manner is generally adopted in reading 
plain, unimpassioned style, such as that which we find to 
a considerable extent in those Psalms of David, and Prov- 
erbs of Solomon, where the sentences are short, without 
emphasis. It often prevails too in the reading of narra- 
tive, and of public documents in legislative and judicial 
transactions. The character and purpose of a composi- 
tion may be such, that it would be as preposterous to read 
it with tones of emotion, as it would to announce a prop- 



HEADING. 15 



osition in grammar and geometry, in the language of met- 
aphor. But though merely the correct manner, suits 
many purposes of reading, it is dry and inanimate, and is 
the lowest department in the province of delivery. Still 
the great majority, not to say of respectable men, but of 
bookish men, go nothing beyond this in their attainments 
or attempts. 

Rhetorical reading has a higher object, and calls into 
action higher powers. It is not applicable to a composi- 
tion destitute of emotion, for it supposes feeli ng. It does 
not barely express the thoughts of an author, but express- 
es them with the force, variety, and beauty, which feel- 
ing demands. And just here it is that the most stubborn 
difficulty in elocution meets us; — a difficulty arising from 
the genius of written language. 

The value of the graphic art consists in its being a 
medium for the acquisition of knowledge, and for the 
communication of it. In the former case, I refer to the 
use we make of language in silent reading. The facility 
with which this is done depends on our acquaintance with 
the characters of which words are formed ; the meaning 
of words, singly ; and the principles which govern their 
combination in sentences. Our eye may glance over a 
page in our own tongue, so as to perceive all its meaning, 
in the same time that w T ould be employed on a short sen- 
tence of a language, which we are only beginning to learn. 
But in silent reading, though the eye perceives at a look 
the form and meaning of words, it cannot perceive the 
meaning of sentences, without including also grammatical 
relation. Hence points or pauses are indispensable in 
the graphic art, as designed merely for the eye. We 



16 READING. 



may take as an example the celebrated response of the 
Oracle ; 

Ibis et redibia nunquam peribis in bello. 

The eye has no means of judging whether the meaning 
is, you shall never return, or you shall never perish, unless 
a pause is inserted before or after nunquam, to determine 
with which verb it is grammatically connected. 

So far the principles of written language go; — they 
embrace words and pauses, and here stop. But the mo- 
ment we come to transform this written language into 
oral, by reading aloud, a new set of principles come in 
with their claims, for which the arts of writing and of 
printing have made no provision. Here the reader be- 
comes a speaker, and is required to mark with his voice 
the degrees of emphatic stress, and all the varieties of 
pitch, quantity of sound, and rate of utterance which sen- 
timent demands. But he is trammelled with the narrow- 
ness of language as presented to the eye. He has been 
accustomed to regard words and pauses only, and all the 
movements of his voice are adjusted accordingly. You 
may tell him that he has a tone, but he knows not what 
you mean. Tell him to be natural, — to be in earnest, 
and you have given him an excellent direction indeed, 
but how to apply it to the case in hand, is the difficulty. 
He is more rapid perhaps, or more loud, for this admoni- 
tion, but under the dominion of inveterate habit, he goes 
on with his tone still. 

To the above defect in the art of printing, let another 
fact be added, that a great proportion of language, as it 
appears in books, neither demands nor admits any variety 
of tones and emphasis ; and another still, that, in most 



READING. 17 



men, habits of voice, once established, cannot be changed 
without great and persevering efforts ; and it will not seem 
strange that the number of good readers is so small, even 
among educated and professional men. British writers 
have constantly complained of the dull, formal manner in 
which the Liturgy and the sacred Scriptures are read in 
/heir churches. And often, in the pulpits of this country, 
the reading of the Bible is apparently so destitute, not of 
feeling and devotion merely, but of all just discrimination, 
as to remind one of the question put by Philip to the no- 
bleman of Ethiopia ; " Understandest thou what thou 
read est ?" 

When we consider the extent to which these faults 
prevail in rhetorical reading, and the correspondent faults 
which of course prevail in public speaking, it is time that 
this greatly neglected subject should receive its due share 
of attention, amid the general advances in other depart- 
ments of literature and taste. 

Now, if there could at once spring up in our country 
a supply of teachers, competent, as living models, to reg- 
ulate the tones of boys, in the forming age, — nothing 
more would be needed. But, to a great extent, these 
teachers are to be themselves formed. And to produce 
the transformation which the case demands, some attempt 
seems necessary to go to the root of the evil, by incorpo- 
rating the principles of spoken language with the written. 
Not that such a change should be attempted in respect to 
books generally ; but in books of elocution, designed for 
this single purpose, visible marks may be employed, suf- 
ficient to designate the chief points of established corres- 
pondence between sentiment and voice. These princi- 
2* 



18 READING. 



pies being well settled in the mind of the pupil, ma}' be 
spontaneously applied, where no such marks are used. 

But as this subject is to be resumed under the head 
of inflections, I drop it here, with a remark or two in 
passing. 

Be it remembered then, that all directions as to man- 
agement of the voice, must be regarded as subsidiary to 
expression of feeling, or they are worse than useless. 
1 Emotion is the thing. One flash of passion on the 
cheek, one beam of feeling from the eye, one thrilling 
note of sensibility from the tongue, — have a thousand 
limes more value than any exemplification of mere rules, 
where feeling is absent.'* The benefit of analysis and 
precept is, to aid the teacher in making the pupil con- 
scious of his own faults, as a prerequisite to their correc- 
tion. The object is to unfetter the soul, and set it free to 
ect. In doing this, a notation for the eye, designed to reg- 
ulate the voice in a few obvious particulars, may be of 
much advantage : otherwise why shall we not dismiss 
punctuation too from books, and depend wholly on the 
teacher for pauses, as well as tones ? 

The reasonable prejudice which some intelligent men 
have felt against any system of notation, arises from the 
preposterous extent to which it has been carried by a few 
popular teachers, and especially by their humble imitators. 
A judicious medium is what we want. Five characters 
in music, and six vowels in writing, enter into an infinitude 
of combinations in melody and language. So the element- 
ary modifications of voice in speaking are few, and easily 

* Knowles. 



READING 19 



understood ; and to mark them, so far as distinction is 
useful, does not require a tenth part of the rules, which 
some have thought necessary. 

The intellectual and moral qualities indispensable to 
form an orator, are brought into view in the following 
pages, no farther than they modify delivery. The parts of 
external oratory, as voice, look, and gesture, are only in- 
struments by which the soul acts ; — when the inspiration 
of soul is absent, these instruments cannot produce elo- 
quence. A treatise on delivery then, must presuppose 
th^ existence of genius, mental discipline, and elevation 
of moral sentiment ; — though a distinct consideration of 
these belongs to rhetoric, as a branch of intellectual and 
Christian philosophy. 

The parts of delivery, to be considered in their order, 
are, — articulation, inflection, accent and empha- 
sis, MODULATION and ACTION. 

I premise here, once for all, that I employ terms ac- 
cording to the best modern use, with as little as possible 
of technical abstractness. Elocution, which anciently em- 
braced style, and the whole art of rhetoric, now signifies 
manner of delivery, whether of our own thoughts or those 
of others. Pronunciation, which anciently signified the 
whole of delivery, is now equivalent to orthoepy, or the 
proper utterance of single words. It were easy, by a 
critical disquisition, to trace out the etymological affinities 
of all these terms, and to teach the pupil a distinction be- 
tween an orator, and an eloquent man, between articula- 
tion, and distinct enunciation of words &c ; but instead of 
the scientific air adopted in some works on elocution, it 
seems to me that the better, because the simpler course, is 



20 READING. 



to use words as they will be most readily understood by 
men of reading and taste. 

In this view I have chosen to make the head of Mod- 
ulation so generic, as to include pitch, quantity, rate, rhe- 
torical pause, transition, expression, and representation. 



CHAP. II. 

ARTICULATION. 

Graiis dedit ore rotundo 



Musa loqui. 



Sect. 1. Importance of a good articulation. 

On whatever subject, and for whatever purpose, a 
man speaks to bis fellow men, they will never listen to 
him with interest, unless they can hear what he says ; and 
that without effort. If his utterance is rapid and indis- 
tinct, no weight of bis sentiments, no strength or smooth- 
ness of voice, no excellence of modulation, emphasis, or 
cadence, will enable him to speak so as to be heard with 
pleasure. For his own sake too, the public speaker 
should feel the importance of a clear articulation. With- 
out this, the necessary apprehension that his voice may 
not reach distant hearers, will lead to elevation of pitch, 
and increase of quantity; till he gradually forms a habit 
of vociferation, at the expense of all interesting variety, if 
not, (as in too many cases it has turned out,) with the 



ARTICULATION. 21 



sacrifice of lungs and life. Every one who is accustom- 
ed to converse with partially deaf persons, knows how 
much more easily th ey hear a moderate voice with clear 
articulation, than one that is loud, but rapid and indis- 
tinct. In addressing a public assembly, the same advan- 
tage attends a voice of inferior strength, which marks the 
proper distinction of letters and syllables. 

For these reasons the ancients regarded articulation as 
the first requisite in delivery ; — without which indeed, all 
other acquisitions are vain. On this account, Cicero says,* 
the Catuli were esteemed the best speakers of the Latin 
language ; their tones being sweet, and their syllables ut- 
tered without effort, in a voice neither feeble nor clamor- 
ous. So fastidious was the Roman ear, even among the 
uneducated, that the same orator says, " in repetition of 
a verse, the whole theatre was in an uproar, if there hap- 
pened to be one syllable too many or too few. Not that 
the crowd had any notion of numbers ; nor could they 
tell what it was which gave the offence, nor in what re- 
spect it was a fault." It was not because the fire of ge- 
nius was wanting in the youthful orator of Athens, that his 
audience repeatedly met his first efforts in speaking, with 
hisses ; but it was on account of his feeble, hurried, stam- 
mering utterance. To correct these faults, it was that he 
betook himself to speaking amid the sound of dashing 
waves, the effort of walking up hill, and the inconvenience 
of holding pebbles in his mouth ; that he might acquire a 
body to his voice, and a habit of distinct and deliberate 
utterance. 

* De Officiis, Lib. I, 



22 ARTICULATION. 






It has been well said, that a good articulation is to the 
ear, what a fair hand-writing, or a fair type is to the eye. 
Who has not felt the perplexity of supplying a word, torn 
away by the seal of a letter ; or a dozen syllables of a 
book, in as many lines, cut off by the carelessness of a 
binder ? The same inconvenience is felt from a similar 
omission in spoken language ; with this additional disad- 
vantage, that we are not at liberty to stop and spell out 
the meaning by construction. I have heard a preacher 
with a good voice, in addressing his hearers with the ex- 
hortation, " repent, and return to the Lord," — utter dis- 
tinctly but three syllables, namely, pent, — turn, — Lord. 
Who would excuse the printer, that should mutilate this 
sentence in the same manner ? When a man reads Latin 
or Greek, we expect him to utter nouns, pronouns, and 
even particles, so that their several syllables, especially 
those denoting grammatical inflections, may be heard 
distinctly. Let one noun in a sentence be spoken so that 
the ear cannot perceive whether it is in the nominative, 
or accusative, or vocative, or ablative ; or one verb, so as 
to leave it uncertain to what mood or tense it belongs, and 
the sense of the whole sentence is ruined. 

But in the English language, abounding as it does 
with particles, harsh syllables, and compound words, both 
the necessity and the difficulty of a perfect utterance are 
greater still. Our thousands of prefix and suffix syllables, 
auxiliaries, and little words which mark grammatical con- 
nexion, render bad articulation a fatal defect in delivery. 
One example may illustrate my meaning. A man of in- 
distinct utterance reads this sentence ; " The magistrates 
ought to prove a declaration so publicly made." When 



ARTICULATION. 23 



I perceive that his habit is to strike only the accented syl- 
lable clearly, sliding over others, I do not know whether 
it is meant that they ought to prove the declaration, or to 
approve it, or reprove it, — for in either case he would 
speak only the syllable prove. Nor do I know, whether 
the magistrates ought to do it, or the magistrate sought to 
do it. 

A respectable modern writer on delivery says ; " In 
just articulation, the words are not to be hurried over ; 
nor precipitated syllable over syllable ; nor as it were 
melted together into a mass of confusion. They should 
be neither abridged nor prolonged ; nor swallowed, nor 
forced ; they should not be trailed, nor drawled, nor let 
to slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfinished. They are 
to be delivered out from the lips as beautiful coins newly 
issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, 
perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, 
distinct, in due succession, and of due weight."* 

Sect. 2. Causes of defective articulation. 

This arises from bad organs, or bad habits, or sounds 
of difficult utterance. 

Every one knows how the loss of a tooth, or a contu- 
sion on the lip, affects the formation of oral sounds. 
When there is an essential fault in the structure of the 
mouth; when the tongue is disproportionate in length or 
width, or sluggish in its movements ; or the palate is too 
high or too low ; or the teeth badly set or decayed, art 
may diminish, but cannot fully remove the difficulty. 

In nine cases out of ten, however, imperfect articula- 

* Austin's Chironomia. 



24 ARTICULATION. 



tion comes not so much from bad organs as from the 
abuse of good ones. Sheridan says; "In several north- 
ern counties of England, there are scarce any of the in- 
habitants who can pronounce the letter R at all. Yet it 
would be strange to suppose that all those people should 
have been so unfortunately distinguished from other na- 
tives of this island, as to be born with any peculiar defect 
in their organs, when this matter is so plainly to be ac- 
counted for upon the principle of imitation and habit." 
Though provincialisms are fewer in this country than in 
most others, a similar incapacity is witnessed, in families 
or districts more or less extensive, to speak certain letters 
or syllables, which are elsewhere spoken with perfect ease. 
The same fact extends to different nations. There are 
some sounds of the English language, as the nice distinc- 
tion between d and t, and between the two aspirated 
sounds of th, that adult natives of France and Germany 
cannot learn to pronounce. Some sounds in their langua- 
ges are equally difficult to us ; but this implies no original 
difference of vocal organs. And surely no defect in these 
need be supposed, to account for stubborn imperfections 
in the utterance of those who from infancy have been un- 
der the influence of vulgar example. 

Besides the mischief that comes from early imitation, 
the animal and intellectual temperament doubtless has 
some connexion with this subject. A sluggish action of 
the mind imparts a correspondent character to the action 
of the vocal organs, and makes speech only a succession 
of indolent, half-formed sounds, more resembling the mut- 
tering of a dream than the clear articulation, which we 
ought to expect in one who knows what he is saying. 






ARTICULATION. 25 



Excess of vivacity, on the other hand, or excess of sen- 
sibility, often produces a hasty, confused utterance. Del- 
icacy speaks in a timid, feeble voice ; and the fault of 
indistinctness is often aggravated in a bashful child, by the 
indiscreet, chidings of his teacher, designed to push him 
into greater speed in spelling out his early lessons; while 
he has little familiarity with the form and sound, and less 
with the meaning of words. 

The way is now prepared to notice some of those dif- 
ficulties in articulation, which arise from the sounds to be 
spoken. 

The first and chief difficulty lies in the fact that arti- 
culation consists essentially in the consonant sounds, and 
that many of these are difficult of utterance. My limits 
do not allow me to illustrate this by a minute analysis of 
the elements of speech. It is evident to the slightest ob- 
servation that the open vowels are uttered with ease and 
strength. On these, public criers swell their notes to so 
great a compass. On these too, the loudest notes of mu- 
sic are formed. Hence the great skill which is requisite 
to distinct articulation in music ; for the stream of voice, 
which flows so easily on the vowels and half vowels, is in- 
terrupted by the occurrence of a harsh consonant ; and 
not only the sound, but the breath, is entirely stopped by 
a mute. In singing, for example, any syllable which ends 
with p, k, d, or /, all the sound must be uttered on the 
preceding vowel ; for when the organs come to the prop- 
er position for speaking the mute, the voice instantly 
ceases. Let any experienced singer, carefully try the 
experiment of speaking, in the notes of a slow tune, these 
lines ; — 



26 ARTICULATION. 



With earnest longings of the mind, 
My God, to thee I look. 

Each syllable should be spoken by itself, with a pause 
after it. In this way it will appear that where the sylla- 
ble ends with a consonant, especially a mute, the stream 
of sound is emitted on the preceding vowel, but is broken 
off when the consonant is finished. This is the case with 
the syllables mind, God, look ; the moment the organs 
come into a position to speak d or k they are shut, so as 
to stop both sound and breath. But in the syllables my, 
to, thee, I, — the closing vowel sounds are perfectly formed 
at once, and may be continued indefinitely, without any 
change of the organs. The common mode of singing, in- 
deed, is but a mere succession of musical notes, or open 
vowel sounds, varying in pitch, with little attempt to arti- 
culate the consonant sounds. This explains what has 
sometimes been thought a mystery, that stammering per- 
sons find little difficulty in reading poetry, and none in 
singing ;* whereas they stop at once in speaking, when 
they come to certain consonants. Any one who would 
practically understand this subject, should recollect that 
the distinction between human speech, and the inarticu- 
late sounds of brutes, lies not in the vowels, but in the 
consonants ; and that in a defective utterance of these, 
bad articulation primarily consists. 

OCp* [The reader is apprised that the marginal numbers 
beginning at this place, direct to correspondent numbers in 
the Exercises. To avoid confusion in the body of the 
work, but few examples for illustration are inserted. Any 

* This is partly owing also to a deliberate, metrical movement. 






ARTICULATION. 27 



principle that requires special attention 'and practice is 
marked with figures on the left hand, and the same fig- 
ures in the Exercises point to examples which should be 
practised with a view to the more perfect understanding 
of the principle.] 

].] A second difficulty arises from the immediate suc- 
cession of the same or similar sounds. The poet who un- 
derstood the principles of euphony in language better than 
any other English writer, has exemplified this in translat- 
ing a line of Homer respecting the stone of Sisyphus, 
where the recurrence of the aspirates and vowels is de- 
signed to represent difficulty. 

Up the high, hill he leaves a huge round stone. 

In another case he purposely produces a heavy movement, 
by the collision of open vowels ; 

Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire. 

Every scholar knows that the Greeks adopted many 
changes in the combination of syllables to render their 
language euphonic, by avoiding such collisions.* 

But a greater difficulty still is occasioned by the im- 
mediate recurrence of the same consonant sound, without 
the intervention of a vowel or a pause. The following 
are examples; " For Christ sake." "The hosts still 
stood." " The battle tests rfill." The illustration will be 
more intelligible from examples in which bad articulation 
affects the sense. 

Wastes and deserts ;— Waste sand deserts. 
To obtain either ; — To obtain neither. 



* On this account they wrote navr' s?.syov for ttuvtu V.syov ; a(p* 
op for arcb ov / v-ixyw for xai iyco ; diduxsv avim for didwxe avrm, &e. 



28 ARTICULATION. 



His cry moved me ; — His crime moved me. 
He could pay nobody ; — He could pain nobody. 

Two successive sounds are to be formed here, with 
the organs in the same position ; so that, without a pause 
between, only one of the single sounds is spoken ; and 
the difficulty is much increased when sense or grammati- 
cal relation forbids such a pause ; as between the simple 
nominative and the verb, the verb and its object, the ad- 
jective and its substantive. In the last example, " he 
could pain nobody," — grammar forbids a pause between 
pain and nobody, while orthoepy demands one. But 
change the structure so as to render a pause proper after 
pain, and the difficulty vanishes ; — thus, " Though he 
endured great pain, nobody pitied him." 

2.] A third difficulty arises from the influence of ac- 
cent. The importance which this stress attaches to syl- 
lables on which it falls, requires them to be spoken in a 
more full and deliberate manner than others. Hence, if 
the recurrence of this stress is too close, it occasions heav- 
iness in utterance ; if too remote, indistinctness. An ex- 
ample of the former kind, we have from the poet before 
mentioned ; 

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line. 

This too is an additional reason for the difficult utter- 
ance of the line lately quoted from the same writer ; 

Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone. 

The poet compels us, in spite of metrical harmony, to lay 
an accent on each syllable. 

But the remoteness of accent in other cases involves 
a greater difficulty still ; because the intervening syllables 



ARTICULATION. 29 



are liable to be spoken with a rapidity inconsistent with 
distinctness, especially if they abound with jarring conso- 
nants. When such close and harsh consonants come to- 
gether in immediate succession, and without accent, the 
trial of the organs is severe. Combinations of this kind 
we have in the words communicatively, authoritatively, 
terrestrial, reasonableness, disinterestedness. And the 
case is worse still where we preposterously throw back 
the accent so as to be followed by four or five syllables, 
as Walker directs in these words receptacle, 'peremptorily, 
acceptableness^ While these combinations almost defy 
the best organs of speech, no one finds any difficulty in 
uttering words combined with a due proportion of liquids, 
and a happy arrangement of vowels and accents. 

Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 

Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. 

The euphony of the Italian, in which it is distinguish- 
ed from all other languages, consists chiefly in its freedom 
from harsh consonants.* 

3.] A fourth difficulty arises from a tendency of the 
organs to slide over unaccented vowels. Walker says, 
" Where vowels are under the accent, the prince and the 
lowest of the people, with very few exceptions, pronounce 
them in the same manner : but the unaccented vowels, 
in the mouth of the former, have a distinct, open sound ; 
while the latter often totally sink them, or change them 
into some other sound." There is a large class of words 
beginning with pre and pro, in which this distinction sel- 



* Even the flowing Greek has such unseemly junction of conso- 
nants as to make 7t(ioacp^iyxTixbs xaxoiit]xavaoii.ai t xaxxeletv. 

3* 



30 ARTICULATION. 



dom fails to appear. In prevent, prevail, predict, a bad 
articulation sinks e of the first syllable so as to make pr- 
vent, pr-vail, pr-dict. The case is the same with o in 
proceed, profane, promote ; spoken pr-ceed, he. So e is 
confounded with short u in event, omit, &ic. spoken uvvent, 
ummit. In the same manner u is transformed into e, as 
in populous, regular, singular, educate, he. spoken pop-e- 
lous, reg-e-lar, ed-e-cate. A smart percussion of the 
tongue, with a little rest on the consonant before w, so as 
to make it quite distinct, would remove the difficulty. 

The same sort of defect, it may be added, often ap- 
pears in the indistinct utterance of consonants ending syl- 
lables ; thus in attempt, attention, ef-fect, o/-fence, the 
consonant of the first syllable is suppressed. 

To the foregoing remarks, it may be proper to add 
three cautions. 

The first is, in aiming to acquire a distinct articulation, 
take care not to form one that is measured and mechani- 
cal. Something of preciseness is very apt to appear at 
first, when we attempt to correct the above faults ; but 
practice and perseverance will enable us to combine ease 
and fluency with clearness of utterance. The child in 
passing from his spelling manner, is ambitious to become 
a swift reader, and thus falls into a confusion of organs 
that is to be cured only by retracing the steps which pro- 
duced it. The remedy, however, is no better than the 
fault, if it runs into a scan-ning, pe-dan-tic for-mal-i-ty, 
giving undue stress to particles and unaccented syllables ; 
thus, " He is the man of all the world whom I rejoice to 
meet. Perhaps there is something in the technical for- 
malities of language attached to the bar, which inclines 



ARTICULATION. 31 



some speakers of that profession to this fault. In the 
pulpit, there is sometimes an artificial solemnity, which 
produces a drawling, measured articulation, of a still more 
exceptionable kind. 

In some parts of our country, inhabited by descend- 
ants of foreigners, especially the Dutch, there is a preva- 
lent habit of sinking the sound of e or i in words where 
English usage preserves it, as in rebel, chapel, Latin, — 
spoken relPl, chapU, Lat'n. In other cases, where Eng^ 
lish usage suppresses the vowel, the same persons speak 
it with marked distinctness, or turn it into u ; as eu'w, op*n, 
heav'n, pronounced ev-un, o t )-un, heav-un. 

The second caution is, — let the close of sentences be 
spoken clearly ; with sufficient strength, and on the proper 
pitch, to bring out the meaning completely. No part of 
a sentence is so important as the close, both in respect to 
sense and harmony. 

The third caution is, — ascertain your own defects of 
articulation, by the aid of some friend, and then devote a 
short time statedly and daily, to correct them. It is im- 
possible, without a resolute experiment, to know how 
much the habit of reading aloud, besides all its other ad- 
vantages, may do for a public speaker in giving distinctness 
to his delivery.* At first, this exercise should be in the 
hearing of a second person, who may stop the reader, and 



* A friend of mine, a respectable lawyer, informed me that, in a 
court which he usually attended, there was often much difficulty 
to hear what was spoken at the bar, and from the bench. One of 
the judges, however, a man of slender health, and somewhat ad- 
vanced in age, was heard with perfect ease in every part of the 
court room, whenever he spoke. So observable was the difference 
between him and others, that the fact was mentioned to him as a 



32 ARTICULATION. 



point out, at the moment, the fault to be corrected. For 
some time the rate of utterance should be slower than usu- 
al, and directed to the single point of distinctness, dismiss- 
ing all regard to the sense of words, lest this lead him to 
forget the object. To make sure of this end, if he can- 
not do it otherwise, he may pronounce the words of a 
common vocabulary. At any rate, let him make a list of 
such words and combinations as he has found most diffi- 
cult to his organs, and repeat them as a set exercise. If 
he has been accustomed to say omnip-e-tent, pop-e-Ious, 
pr-mote, pr-vent, let him learn to speak the unaccented 
vowels properly. 

IMPEDIMENTS. 

As directly connected with articulation, a few remarks 
on impediments seem to be necessary. Stammering may 
doubtless exist from such causes, and to such degree as 
to be insurmountable ; though in most cases, a complete 
remedy is attainable by the early use of proper means. 
They who have given most attention to this defect, sup- 
pose that it should generally be ascribed to some infelici- 
ty of nervous temperament. When this is the cause, ea- 
gerness of emotion, fear of strangers, surprise, anxiety, 
— any thing that produces a sudden rush of spirits, will 
communicate a spasmodic action to the organs of speech. 
The process of cure in such a case, must begin with such 
attention to bodily health, as will give firmness to the 

subject of curiosity. The judge explained it by saying, that his 
vocal powers, which were originally quite imperfect, had acquired 
clearness and strength by the long continued habit of reading aloud, 
for about half an hour, every day. 



ARTICULATION. 33 



nervous system, and produce a calm, clear, and regular 
action of the mind. 

With this preparation, it is best not to put the stam~ 
merer at first to the hardest task of his organs, but to be- 
gin at a distance, and come to the difficulty by regular 
approaches. The course that has been pursued, with 
perfect success, by one respectable teacher, is this. The 
pupil is to begin with reading verse ; the more simple and 
regular, the better : — he is to mark the feet distinctly 
with his voice, and beat time with his hand or toe to the 
movement. From verse of this regular structure, he may 
proceed to that which is less uniform in metrical order ; 
then to prose, of the elevated and poetic kind ; then to 
common prose ; and then by degrees to the difficult com- 
binations at which he had been accustomed to stammer. 

In repeating certain words there may be an obstinate 
struggle of the organs ; as in the attempt to pronounce 
parable, the p may be spoken again and again, while the 
remainder of the word does not follow. In such a case, 
the advice of the celebrated Dr. Darwin was, that the 
stammerer should, in a strong voice, eight or ten times, 
repeat the word, without the initial letter, or with an as- 
pirate before it ; as arable, harable ; and then speak it 
softly, with the initial letter p,-— parable. This should be 
practised for weeks or months, upon every word, where 
the difficulty of utterance chiefly occurs. 



CHAP. III. 






TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

The former of these terms is more comprehensive 
than the latter, embracing, in its most extensive sense, all 
sounds of the human voice. In a more restricted and 
proper sense, we mean by tones those sounds which stand 
connected with some rhetorical principle of language. In 
a few cases passion is expressed by tones which have no 
inflection ; but more commonly inflection is what gives 
significance to tones. Except a few general remarks 
here, no consideration of tones seems necessary, distinct 
from the subject of the following chapters, especially 
Modulation. 

Sect. 1. Tones considered as a language of emotion. 

Sight has commonly been considered as the most 
active of all our senses. As a source of emotion, we de- 
rive impressions more various, and in some respects more 
vivid, from this sense, than from any other. Yet the class 
of tender emotions, such as grief and pity, are probably 
excited more strongly by the ear than the eye. 

Whether any reason can be assigned for this or not, 
the fact seems unquestionable. A groan or shriek utter- 
ed by the human voice, is not only more intelligible than 
words, but more instantly awakens our sensibility than any 
figns of distress, that are presented to the sight. Our 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 35 

sympathy in the sufferings of irrational animals, is increas- 
ed in the same way. The violent contortions of the fish, 
in the pangs of death, being exhibited without the aid of 
vocal organs, very faintly excite our compassion, compar- 
ed with the plaintive bleatings of an expiring lamb. And 
a still stronger distinction seems to prevail among brutes 
themselves. For while the passion of fear in them is as- 
sociated chiefly with objects of sight, that of pity is awak- 
ened, almost exclusively, by the sense of hearing. The 
cry of distress from a suffering animal, instinctively calls 
around him his fellows of the same species, though this 
cry is an unknown tongue to animals of any other class. 
At the same time his own species, if he utters no cries, 
while they see him in excruciating agony, manifest no 
sympathy in his sufferings. 

Without inquiring minutely into the philosophy of vo- 
cal tones, as being signs of emotion, we must take the 
fact for granted that they are so. And no man surely 
will question the importance of this language in oratory, 
when he sees that it is understood by mere children ; and 
that even his horse or his dog distinguish perfectly those 
sounds of his voice which express his anger or his appro- 
bation. 

Sect. 2. Utility of systematic attention to tones and in- 
flections. 

Analysis of vocal inflections bears the same relation to 
oratory, that the tuning of an instrument does to music. 
The rudest performer in this latter art knows, that his first 
business is to regulate the instrument he uses, when it is 
so deranged as to produce no perfect notes, or to produce 



36 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

others than those which he intends. The voice is the 
speaker's instrument, which by neglect or mismanage- 
ment is often so out of tune as not to obey the will of him 
who uses it. To cure bad habits is the first and hardest 
task in elocution. Among instructors of children scarcely 
one in fifty thinks of carrying his precepts beyond cor- 
rectness in uttering words, and a mechanical attention to 
pauses. So that the child who speaks the words of a 
sentence distinctly and fluently, and " minds the stops," as 
it is called, is, without scruple, pronounced a good reader. 
Hence, among the multitude who consider themselves as 
good readers, there are so few who give by their voice 
that just expression of sentiment, which constitutes the 
spirit and soul of delivery. 

The unseemly tones which are contracted in child- 
hood, are often- so deeply fixed, as not easily to yield to 
the dictates of a manly intellect, and a cultivated taste, in 
after life. These habits are acquired, almost unavoida- 
bly by children, in consequence of their being accustomed 
to read what they do not understand. The man who 
should prepare a school-book, containing proper lessons 
for beginners in the art of reading, with familiar directions 
for managing the voice, would probably do a greater ser- 
vice to the interests of elocution, than has yet been done 
by the most elaborate works on the subject, in the Eng- 
lish language.* The tones of the common school are of- 

* Since this remark was made in my pamphlet on Inflection, 
several small works, well adapted to the purpose above-mentioned, 
have been published ; and one is now in press, entitled Lessons in 
Declamation, by Mr. Russell of Boston, concerning the utility of 
which high expectations are justified by the skill of the Author, as a 
Teacher of Elocution. 



" 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 37 

ten retained and confirmed at the college, and thence, 
(with some distinguished exceptions,) are carried in all 
their strength to the bar, and especially to the pulpit. 
This fault is by no means peculiar to America ; it prevails 
certainly not less in the schools and universities of Eng- 
land and Scotland, than in our own. 

But what is the remedy ? It has often been said, the 
only good canon of elocution is, — " enter into the spirit of 
what you utter." If we were to have but one direction, 
doubtless this should be the one. Doubtless it is better 
than all others to prevent the formation of bad habits ; — 
and better than any other alone, as a remedy for such hab- 
its; but when these are formed, it is by no means suffi- 
cient of itself for their cure. To do what is right, with un- 
perverted faculties, is ten times easier than to undo what 
is wrong. How often do we see men of fine understand- 
ing and delicate sensibility, who utter their thoughts in 
conversation, with all the varied intonations which senti- 
ment requires ; but who, the moment they come to read or 
speak in a formal manner, adopt a set of artificial tones 
utterly repugnant to the spirit of a just elocution. Shall 
we say that such men do not understand what they speak 
in public, as well as what they speak in conversation ? 
Plainly the difference arises from a perverse habit, which 
prevails over them in one case, and not in the other. 
Many instances of this sort I have known, where a man 
has been fully sensible of something very wrong in his 
tones, but has not been able to see exactly what the fault 
is ; and after a few indefinite and unsuccessful efforts at 
amendment, has quietly concluded to go on in the old way. 
So he must conclude, so long as good sense and emo- 
4 



38 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

tion are not an equal match for bad habits, without a 
knowledge of those elementary principles, by which the 
needed remedy is to be applied. 

Skill in vocal inflections, it is granted, cannot of itself 
make an orator. Nor can skill in words. Who does 
not know that with an ample stock of words at command, 
a man may be little more than a chattering animal ? Yet 
who can be an orator without words ? We have seen 
that a man, with no defects of intellect or of sensibility, 
may have great faults in the management of his voice as 
a speaker. These perhaps he acquired in childhood, just 
as he learned to speak at all, or to speak English rather 
than French, — by imitation. His tones both of passion 
and of articulation, are derived from an instinctive corres- 
pondence between the ear and voice. If he had been 
born deaf, he would have possessed neither. Now in 
what way shall he break up his bad habits, without so 
much attention to the analysis of speaking sounds, that he 
can in some good degree distinguish those which differ, 
and imitate those which he would wish to adopt or avoid ? 
How shall he correct a tone, while he cannot understand 
why it needs correction, because he chooses to remain ig- 
norant of the only language in which the fault can possi- 
bly be described ? Let him study and accustom himself 
to apply a few elementary principles, and then he may 
at least be able to understand what are the defects of his 
own intonations. I do not say that this attainment may be 
made with equal facility, or to an equal extent, by all men. 
But to an important extent it may be made by every one ; 
and that with a moderate share of the effort demanded by 
most other valuable acquisitions ; I might say with one 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 39 

half the time and attention that are requisite to attain skill 
in music. 

It may be doubted, however, by some, whether any 
theory of vocal inflections, to be studied and applied by 
the pupil, must not tend to perplex rather than to facilitate 
delivery. " The same doubt may as well be extended to 
every department of practical knowledge. To think of 
the rules of syntax, every sentence we speak, or of the 
rules of orthography and style, every time we take up our 
pen to write, would indeed be perplexing. The remedy 
prescribed by common sense in all such cases, is, not to 
discard correct theories, but to make them so familiar as 
to govern our practice spontaneously, and without reflec- 
tion. 

But if one has already the perfect management of his 
voice, of what service, it is said, are theoretic principles to 
him ? Of very little, certainly ; just as rules of syntax 
would be needless to him, who could write and speak cor- 
rectly without them. But the number of those who sup- 
pose themselves to be of this description, is doubtless 
much larger, than of those who really are so. And be- 
sides, this reasoning hardly applies to those who are des- 
tined for literary professions. A mere peasant may speak 
a sentence of good English, and do it with proper empha- 
sis and inflections ; while he is a stranger to all the prin- 
ciples of grammar, and of elocution. But a scholar should 
aim at something more. The question as to voice, is, are 
there any settled principles in elocution ? When a skilful 
teacher has read to his pupils a sentence for their imitation, 
is there any reason why he should have read it as he did ? 
—or why he or they should read it again in the same man- 



40 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

ner ? Can that reason be made intelligible ? Doubtless 
it may, if it is founded on any stated law of delivery. The 
pupils then, need not rest in a servile imitation of their 
teacher's manner, but are entitled to ask why his empha- 
sis, or inflection, or cadence was so, and not otherwise ; 
and then they may be able to transfer the same' principles 
to other cases. Then too one skilful teacher, by means 
of such intelligible analysis, may assist other teachers, 
whose capacity is equal to his own, but whose experience 
has been less than his. For myself, I must say, that af- 
ter all I had read of Garrick, I had no distinct conception 
of his manner in delivering any given passage, till I saw 
Walker's description of his inflections in the grand and ter- 
rible adjuration of Macbeth. [See Ex. p. 202.] if Quinc- 
tilian had given me the same precise information respect- 
ing the turns of Cicero's voice, in some interesting passage 
of his orations, it would be no small gratification of my 
curiosity. 

Now, while every tyro has known for centuries, that 
the verb has a stated, grammatical relation to its nomina- 
tive, and while certain tones have occurred in as stated 
a relation to certain sentiments of the mind ; it is but a 
short time since the tones of articulate language have been 
considered as capable of any useful classification. Seve- 
ral years of childhood are particularly devoted to acquire 
a correct orthography and accentuation ; and to promote 
a knowledge of these and of syntax, rules have been fram- 
ed with great care. But what valuable directions have 
our elementary books contained as to the management of 
the voice in reading? — an art which lies at the bottom of 
all good delivery. Here our embryo orators, on their 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 41 

way to the bar, the senate, and the pulpit, are turned oft' 
with a few meagre rules, and are expected to become ac- 
complished speakers, without having ever learned to read 
a common passage, in a graceful and impressive manner. 
Fifty years ago the general direction given by teachers in 
reading was, that in every sort of sentence the voice' should 
be kept up in a rising tone till the regular cadence is 
formed, at the close. This was exactly adapted to ruin 
all variety and force, and to produce a set of reading tones 
completely at variance with those of conversation and 
speaking. The more particular directions as to voice, for- 
merly given in books for learners, are the three following : 
that a parenthesis requires a quick and weak pronuncia- 
tion ; — that the voice should rise at the end of an inter- 
rogative sentence, — and fall at the end of one that is de- 
clarative. The first is true without exception ; — the 
second, only in that sort of question which is answered by 
yes or no ; and the third is true with the exception of all 
cases where emphasis carries the voice to a high note at 
the close of a sentence. So that, among the endless vari- 
eties of modification which the voice assumes in speaking, 
but one was accurately marked before the time of Walker. 
To his labors, imperfect as a first effort of the kind neces- 
sarily must be, the world will ultimately acknowledge 
great obligations. Such, however, is the intrinsic diffi- 
culty of representing sounds, by symbols adapted to the 
eye, that no precepts on this subject can be made com- 
pletely intelligible, without the aid of exemplification by 
the teacher's voice. The ear too is an organ, which in 
different men, possesses various degrees of sensibility and 
accuracy in discriminating sounds ; though it may acquire 
4* 



42 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

a good degree of skill in speaking tones, without skill in 
music, as appears from the case of Walker himself. 

Sect. 3. Description of Inflections. 

The absolute modifications of the voice in speaking 
are four ; namely, monotone, rising inflection, falling in- 
flection, and circumflex. The first may be marked to the 
eye by a horizontal line, thus, (-) the second thus, (' ) the 
third thus, ( v ) the fourth thus, ( ° ). 

The monotone is a sameness of sound on successive 
syllables, which resembles that produced by repeated 
strokes on a bell. Perhaps this is never carried so far 
as to amount to perfect sameness ; but it often approach- 
es this point, so as to be both irksome and ludicrous. 
Still, more or less of this quality belongs to grave deliv- 
ery, especially in elevated description, or where emotions 
of sublimity or reverence are expressed. Any one would 
be shocked, for example, at an address to Jehovah, utter- 
ed with the sprightly and varied tones of conversation. 
The following lines have often been given as a good ex- 
ample of the dignity and force attending the monotone 
when properly used. 

High on a throne of royal state, which far 

Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind ; 

Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 

Show'rs on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, 

Satan exalted sat. 
The rising inflection turns the voice upward, or ends 
higher than it begins. It is heard invariably in the direct 
question ; as, Will you go to-day ? 

The falling inflection turns the voice downwards, or 
ends lower than it begins. It is heard in the answer to a 
question ; as, JVd ; I shall go to-mdrrow. 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 43 

As the whole doctrine of inflections depends on these 
two simple slides of the voice, one more explanation 
seems necessary, as to the degree in which each is applied, 
under different circumstances. In most cases where the 
rising slide is used, it is only a gentle turn of the voice 
upward, one or two notes. In cases of emotion, as in 
the spirited, direct question, the slide may pass through 
five or eight notes. The former may be called the com- 
mon rising inflection, the latter the intensive. Just the 
same distinction exists in the falling inflection. Many, 
not aware of this difference, have carried Walker's princi- 
ples to an extreme. In the question, uttered with sur- 
prise, " Are you going to-day V the slide is intensive. 
But in the following case, it is common, " as fame is but 
breath, as riches are transitory, and life itself is uncertain, 
so we should seek a better portion." To carry the rising 
slide in the latter case, as far as in the former, is a great 
fault, though not an uncommon one. See p. 88 and 226. 

The circumflex is a union of the two inflections, some- 
times on one syllable, and sometimes on several. Walker's 
first example extends it to three syllables, though his de- 
scription limits it to one. It begins with the falling and ends 
with the rising slide. This turn of the voice is not so of- 
ten used, nor so easily distinguished as the two simple 
slides just mentioned ; though it occurs, if I mistake not, 
especially in familiar language, much oftener than Walker 
seems to suppose. In many cases where it is used, there 
is something conditional in the thought ; as, I may go to- 
morrow, though I cannot go to-day. Irony or scorn is 
also expressed by it; as " They tell us to be moderate ; 
but they, they, are to revel in profusion." On the words 
marked in these examples, there is a significant twisting ' 



44 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

of the voice downwards and then upwards, without which 
the sense is not expressed.* 

As to Mr. Walker's remarks on another circumflex, 
which he calls the falling, I must doubt the accuracy ei- 
ther of his ear or my own ; for in his examples I can- 
not distinguish it from the falling slide, modified perhaps 
by circumstances, but having nothing of that distinctive 
character, which belongs to the circumflex just described. 
In mimickry and burlesque, I can perceive a falling cir- 
cumflex, in a few cases, but it is applicable I think very 
rarely, if ever, in grave delivery. f 

Besides these absolute modifications of voice, there are 
others which may be called relative, and which may be 
classed under the four heads of pitch, quantity, rate, and 
quality. These may be presented thus ; 

w*jk)' «-«»{»$ ■*|sE' •-■*?ESfc 

As these relative modifications of voice assume almost 
an endless variety, according to sentiment and emotion in 
a speaker, they belong to the chapter on modulation. 

* We may take anexample, which gives these three inflections 
of voice successively ; though perhaps it will hardly be intelligible 
to a mere beginner. The abrupt clause in Hamlet's soliloquy, — 
To die, to sleep, no more, is commonly read with the falling slide 
on each word, thus ; to die, to sleep no more, expressing no sense, 
or a false one ; as if Hamlet meant, " When I die, I shall no more 
sleep." But place the rising inflection on die, the falling on sleep, 
and the circumflex on no more, and you have this sense ; " To die ? 
— what is it ? — no terrible event; — it is merely falling asleep:" — 
thus, to die,- — to slhep, — no more. Some skilful readers give the ris- 
ing slide to the last clause, turning it into a question or exclama- 
tion ; — no mdre! — "is this all?" But the circumflex seems better 
to represent the desperate hardihood with which Hamlet was rea- 
soning himself into a contempt of death. 

t I am aware that some, whose opinion I greatly respect, think 
Walker to be right on this point. Doubtless they mean something 
by falling circumflex, of which I have been able to gain no distinct 
apprehension, except as stated above. 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 45 

Sect. 4. Classification of Inflections. 
This is the point on which, most of all, Walker is defect- 
ive. The conviction that he was treating a difficult subject, 
led him into the very common mistake of attempting to 
make his meaning plain by prolixity of remark, and"mul- 
tiplicity of rules. One error of this respectable writer is, 
that he attempts to carry the application of his principles 
too far. To think of reducing to exact system all the in- 
flections to be employed in the delivery of plain language, 
where there is no emotion, and no emphasis, is idle in- 
deed. Many who have attempted to follow the theory 
to this extreme, perplexed with the endless list of rules 
which it occasions, have become discouraged. Whereas 
the theory is of no use except in reference to the rhetori- 
cal principles of language, where tones express sentiment. 
And even in passages of this sort, the significant inflec- 
tions belong only to a few words, which, being properly 
spoken, determine of necessity the manner of speaking 
the rest* The maxim, that " there cannot be too much 
of a good thing," has led some to multiply marks of in- 
flection on unimportant words ; just as others, in their 
zeal for emphasis, have multiplied Italic words in a page, 
till all discrimination is confounded. 

Another fault of Walker is, that the elements of speak- 
ing tones are not presented in any intelligible method ; 
"but are so promiscuously intermingled throughout his 
work, as to give it the character of obscurity. The view 
of these elements to which he devotes about a hundred 



* This I endeavor to illustrate in the discussion of Emphasis and, 
Modulation. 



46 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

and fifty pages, after he enters on inflections, I here at- 
tempt to comprise in a short compass. In order to ren- 
der the new classification which I have given intelligible, 
I have chosen examples chiefly from colloquial language ; 
because the tones of conversation ought to be the basis of 
delivery, and because these only are at once recognised 
by the ear. Being conformed to nature, they are instinct- 
ively right ; so that scarcely a man in a million uses ar- 
tificial tones in conversation. And this one fact, I remark 
in passing, furnishes a standing canon to the learner in el- 
ocution. In contending with any bad habit of voice, let 
him break up the sentence on which the difficulty occurs, 
and throw it, if possible, into the colloquial form. Let 
him observe in himself and others, the turns of voice 
which occur in speaking, familiarly and earnestly, on com- 
mon occasions. Good taste will then enable him to trans- 
fer to public delivery the same turns of voice, adapting 
them, as he must of necessity, to the elevation of his subject. 

The examples set down under each rule, should be 
repeated by the student, in the hearing of some competent 
judge, till he is master of that one point, before he pro- 
ceeds to another. If more examples, in the first instance 
are found necessary to this purpose, they may be sought 
in the exercises. 

As the difficulty of the learner at first is, to distinguish 
the two chief inflections, and as the best method of doing 
this, is by comparing them together, the following classi- 
fication begins with cases in which the two are statedly 
found in the same connexion 5 and then extends to cases 
in which they are used separately ; the whole being mark- 
ed in a continued series of rules, for convenient reference, 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 



47 



BOTH INFLECTIONS TOGETHER. 

4] Rule I. When the disjunctive or connects words 
or clauses, it has the rising inflection before, and the fall- 
ing after it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall I come to you with a rod — or in love ? 

Art thou he that should come, — or look we for andther ? 

The baptism of John, was it from heaven, — or of men ? 

Will you go — or stay ? 

Will you ride — or walk ? 

Will you go to-day — or to-morrow ? 

Did you see him — or his brother ? 

Did he travel for health, — or pleasure ? 

Did he resemble his father, — or his mother ? 

Is this book yours, — or mine ? 

5] Rule II. The direct question, or that which ad- 
raits the answer of yes or no, has the rising inflection, and 
the answer has the falling. 



EXAMPLES. 



Are they Hebrews ? 

Are they 'Israelites ? 

Are they the seed of 'Abraham ? 

Are they ministers of Christ ? 

Did you not speak to it ? 

Hold you the watch to-night ? 

'Arm'd, say you ? 

From top to toe ? 

Then saw you not his face ? 

What, look'd he fr<5wningly ? 

Pale ? 



So am 'I. 

So am l I. 

So am 'I. 

I am mdre. [Paul.} 

My lord, I did. 

We do, my lord. 

'Arm'd, my lord. 

My lord, from head to foot. 

O yes, my lord. 

A countenance more in sorrow 

than in anger. 
Nay, very pale. 

Shak. Hamlet. 



43 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

6] Note 1 . This sort of question ends with the ris- 
ing slide, whether the answer follows it or not. But it 
is not true, as Mr. Walker has seemed to suppose, that 
every question beginning with a verb is of this sort. If I 
wish to know whether my friend will go on a journey with- 
in two days, I say perhaps, " Will you go to-day or to-mor- 
row ?" He may answer, " yes," — because my rising in- 
flection on both words implies that I used the or between 
them conjunctively. But if I had used it disjunctively, 
it must have had the rising slide before it, and the falling 
after ; and then the question is, not whether he will go 
within two days, but on which of the two ; — thus, " Will 
you go to-day — or to-morrow V The whole question, in 
this case, though it begins with a verb, cannot admit the 
answer yes or no, and of course cannot end with the ris- 
ing slide. 

The very general habit of elocution which gives this 
slide to a question beginning with a verb, is superseded 
by the stronger principle of emphatic contrast in Rule 1st. 
Thus the disciples said to Christ, " Is it lawful to give 
tribute to Caesar or not ? Shall we give or shall we not 
give ?" Pilate said to the Jews, " Shall I release unto 
you Barabbas, or Jesus ?" Let the rising slide be given 
on both names, in this latter case, and the answer might 
indeed be yes or no, but the sense is perverted, by mak- 
ing these, two names for the same person ; just as in the 
following, " Was this becoming in Zoroaster, or the Phi- 
losopher of the Magi ?" Such an example may help to 
satisfy those who doubt the significance of inflection. 

Note 2. When Exclamation becomes a question, it 
demands the rising slide ; as, " How, you say, are we to 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 49 

accomplish it ? How accomplish it ! Certainly not by 
fearing to attempt it." 

7] Rule III. When negation is opposed to affirm- 
ation, the former has the rising, and the latter the falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

I did not say a better soldier, — but an elder. 
Study not for amusement, — but for imprdvement. 
Aim not to shdw knowledge, — but to acquire it. - 
He was esteemed, not for wealth, — but for wisdom. 
He will not come to-day, — but to-mdrrow. 
He did not act wisely, but unwisely. 
He did not call mi, — but ybu. 
He did not say pride, — but pride. 

Negation alone, not opposed to affirmation, does not 
by any means always take the rising inflection, as Mr. 
Knowles supposes. The simple particle no, when under 
the emphasis, with the intensive, falling slide, is one of 
the strongest monosyllables in the language. But when 
negative and affirmative clauses come into opposition, I 
think of no exception to the rule but that mentioned un- 
der emphatic succession, Rule IX. Note 2. 

8] Note 1. This rule, like the two preceding, is 
founded on the influence which antithetic sense has on 
the voice. The same change of inflections we find in 
comparison ; as, 

" He is more knave than fool." 

" A countenance more in sorrow than in anger." 

So in the following case of simple contrast, where, in each 
couplet of antithetic terms, the former word has the rising 
inflection. 

5 



50 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 

Here regard to virtue opposes insensibility to shame ; purity to 
pollution ; integrity to injustice ; virtue to villany ; resolution to 
rage ; regularity to riot. The struggle lies between wealth and 
want ; the dignity and degeneracy of reason ; the force and the 
phrenzy of the soul ; between well grounded hope and widely ex- 
tended despair. 

Note 2. The reader should be apprised here, that 
the falling slide, being often connected with strong em- 
phasis, and beginning on a high and spirited note, is lia- 
ble to be mistaken, by those little acquainted with the sub- 
ject, for the rising slide. If one is in doubt which of the 
two he has employed, on a particular word, let him re- 
peat both together, by forming a question according to 
Rule I. with the disjunctive or ; — thus, " Did I say go, — 
or gd V Or let him take each example under Rule I. 
and according to Rule II. form an answer echoing the 
first emphatic word, but changing the inflection ; thus, 
" Will you go, — or stay ? I shall gd." " Will you ride, 
or walk ? I shall ride" This will give the contrary 
slides on the same word. 

But as some may be unable still to distinguish the 
falling slide, confounding it, as just mentioned, with the 
rising inflection, 017 on the other hand, with the cadence; 
I observe that the difficulty lies in two things. One is, 
that the slide is not begun so high, and the other, that it 
is not carried through so many notes, as it ought to be. 
I explain this by a diagram, thus : 



Willyou go to-^^or to^S^ I fi h a11 go to> 



TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 51 



It is sufficiently exact to say, that in reading this prop- 
erly, the syllables without slide may be spoken on one 
key or monotone. From this key go slides upwards to 
its highest note, and from the same high note stay slides 
downwards to the key ; and go does the same, in the an- 
swer to the question. In the second example, the case 
is entirely similar. But the difficulty with the inexpert 
reader is, that he strikes the downward slide, not above 
the key, but on it, and then slides downward, just as in a 
cadence. The faulty manner may be represented thus : 

Will you go to- & or to- . I shall go to-fijo,... 

The other part of the difficulty in distinguishing the fall- 
ing inflection from the opposite, arises from its want of 
sufficient extent. Sometimes indeed the voice is merely 
dropped to a low note, without any slide at all. The 
best remedy is, to take a sentence with some emphatic 
word, on which the intensive falling slide is proper, and 
protract that slide, in a drawling manner, from a high 
note to a low one. This will make its distinction from 
the rising slide very obvious. 

Harmony and emphasis make some exceptions to sev- 
eral of these rules, which the brevity of my plan com- 
pels me to pass by without notice. 

RISING INFLECTION. 

9] Rule IV. The pause of suspension, denoting 
that the sense is unfinished, requires the rising inflection. 

This rule embraces several particulars, more espe- 
cially applying to sentences of the periodic structure, 



52 INFLECTIONS RISING. 



which consist of several members, but form no complete 
sense before the close. It is a first principle of articulate 
language, that in such a case, the voice should be kept 
suspended, to denote continuation of sense. 

The following are some of the cases to which the 
rule applies. 

1. Sentences beginning with a conditional particle or 
clause; as, 

"If some of the branches be broken off, and thou, being a wild 
olive-tree, wert grafted in among them, and with them partakest of 
the root and fatness of the olive-tree ; boast not against the branch- 
es." " As face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to 
man." 

In what Walker calls the ' inverted period,' the last 
member, though not essential to give meaning to what 
precedes, yet follows so closely as not to allow the voice 
to fall till it is pronounced. 

2. The case absolute ; as, 

" His father dying, and no heir being left except himself, he 
succeeded to the estate." "The question having been fully dis- 
cussed, and all objections completely refuted, the decision was unan- 
imous." 

3. The infinitive mood with its adjuncts, used as a 
nominative case ; as, 

" To smile on those whom we should censure, and to counte- 
nance those who are guilty of bad actions, is to be guilty ourselves." 
11 To be pure in heart, to be pious and benevolent, constitutes human 
happiness." 

4. The vocative* case without strong emphasis, when 
it is a respectful call to attention, expresses no sense com- 

* 1 use this term as better suiting my purpose than that of our 
grammarians, — nominative independent. 



INFLECTIONS RISING. 53 



pleted, and comes under the inflection of the suspending 
pause; as, 

Men, brethren, and fathers,- — hearken." " Friends, Romans, 
countrymen ! — lend me your ears." 

5. The parenthesis commonly requires the same in- 
flection at its close, while the rest of it is often to be 
spoken in the monotone. As an interjected clause, it 
suspends the sense of the sentence, and for that reason 
only, is pronounced in a quicker and lower voice, the hear- 
er being supposed to wait with some impatience for the 
main thought, while this interjected clause is uttered ; as, 
Know ye not, brethren, (for I speak to them that know 
the law,) that the law hath dominion over a man as long 
as he liveth V The most common exceptions in this 
case, occur in rhetorical dialogue, where narrative and 
address are mingled, and represented by one voice, and 
where there is frequent change of emphasis. 

The same sort of exception may apply to the general 
principle of this rule, whenever one voice is to represent 
two persons, thus ; 

If a brother or a sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and 
one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and fill- 
ed ; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are need- 
ful to the body ; what doth it profit ? 

Here the sense is entirely suspended to the close, and yet 
the clause introduced as the language of another, requires 
the falling slide. 

Another exception, resting on still stronger ground, 
occurs where an antithetic clause requires the intensive 
falling slide on some chief word to denote the true mean- 
ing ; as in the following example, — " The man who is in 
the daily use of ardent spirit, if he does not become a 
5* 



54 INFLECTIONS RISING. 

drunkard, is in danger of losing his health and character." 
In this periodic sentence, the meaning is not formed till 
the close ; and yet the falling slide must be given at the 
end of the second member, or the sense is subverted ; for 
the rising slide on drunkard would imply that his becom- 
ing such, is the only way to preserve health and character. 

In the foregoing rule, together with the VI. and IX. is 
comprised all that I think important in about thirty rules 
of Walker. 

10] Rule V. Tender emotion generally inclines the 
voice to the rising slide. * 

Grief, compassion, and delicate affection, soften the 
soul, and are uttered in words, invariably with correspond- 
ing qualities of voice. The passion and the appropriate 
signs by which it is expressed, are so universally conjoin- 
ed, that they cannot be separated. It would shock the 
sensibility of any one to hear a mother describe the death 
of her child, with the same intonations which belong to joy 
or anger. And equally absurd would it be for a general 
to assume the tones of grief, in giving his commands at 
the head of an army. 

Hence the vocative case, when it expresses either af- 
fection or delicate respect, takes the rising slide ; as, 

" Jesus saith unto her, Mary." " Jesus saith unto him, Thom- 
as.' ' " Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet." — "Sirs, what must 
I do to be saved ?" 

This inflection prevails in the reverential language of prayer. 

The same slide prevails in pathetic poetry. Take an 

example from Milton's lamentation for the loss of sight. 

* In the first edition, this rule was expressed too strongly to coincide with the 
author's meaning, as explained in other parts of the work. It is corrected here, at 
the suggestion of a friend. 



INFLECTIONS RISING. 55 

Thus with the year 
Seasons return ; but not to me returns 
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, 
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark 
Surround me 

Another example may be seen in the beautiful little 
poem of Cowper, on the receipt of his mother's picture : 

My mother ! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? 
I hear'd the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
I saw the hearse, that bore thee slow away, 
And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 

In both these examples the voice preserves the rising 
slide, till, in the former we come to the last member, be- 
ginning with the disjunctive but, — where it takes the fall- 
ing slide on cloud and dark. In the latter the slide does 
not change till the cadence requires it, on the last word, 
adieu. 

11] Rule VI. The rising slide is commonly used 
at the last pause but one in a sentence. The reason is, 
that the ear expects the voice to fall when the sense is 
finished; and therefore it should rise for the sake of vari- 
ety and harmony, on the pause that precedes the cadence. 
—Ex. 

11 The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of business, 
then to make up an estate, then to arrive at honors, then to retire." 
11 Our lives, (says Seneca,) are spent either in doing nothing at all, 
or in doing. nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we 
ought to do." 



56 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 



FALLING INFLECTION. 

The general principle suggested under Rule V, is to 
be borne in mind here. In the various classes of exam- 
ples under the falling inflection, the reader will perceive 
the prevailing characteristic of decision and force. So 
instinctively does bold and strong passion express itself 
by this turn of voice, that, just so far as the falling slide 
becomes intensive, it denotes emphatic force. The VIII. 
IX. and X. rules will illustrate this remark. 

12] Rule VII. The indirect question, or that which 
is not answered by yes or no, has the falling inflection ; 
and its answer has the same. 

This sort of question begins with interrogative pro- 
nouns and adverbs. Thus Cicero bears down his adver- 
sary by the combined force of interrogation and emphatic 
series. 

This is an open, honorable challenge to you. Why are you 
silent ? Why do you prevaricate ? I insist upon this point ; I 
urge you to it; press it; require it; nay, I demand it of you. 

So in his oration for Ligarius ; 

"What, Tubero, did that naked sword of yours mean, in the bat- 
tle of Pharsalia? At whose breast was its point aimed ? What was 
the meaning of your arms, your spirit, your eyes, your hands, your 
ardor of soul ? 

In conversation there are a few cases where the indi- 
rect question has the rising slide ; as when one partially 
hears some remark, and familiarly asks ; What is that 9 
Who is that 9 

The answer to the indirect question, according to the 



INFLECTIONS FALLING. 57 

general rule, has the falling slide ; though at the expense 
of harmony; as, 

Who say the people that I am f They answering said, John ths 
Baptist ; but some say, Ellas ; and others say that one of the old 
prdphets is risen again. — Where is bdasting then ? It is excluded. — 
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt ? The infernal serpent. 

The want of distinction in elementary books, between 
that sort of question which turns the voice upward, and 
that which turns it downward, must have been felt by eve- 
ry teacher even of children. This distinction is scarcely 
noticed by the ancients. Augustin, in remarking on the 
false sense sometimes given to a passage of Scripture by 
false pronunciation, says, The ancients called that ques- 
tion interrogation, which is answered by yes or no ; and 
that' 'per contation, which admits of other answers.* Quinc- 
tilian, however, says the two terms were used indiffer- 
ently. 

13] Rule VIIL The language of authority and of 
surprise, is commonly uttered with the falling inflection. 
Bold and strong passion so much inclines the voice to 
this slide, that in most of the cases hereafter to be speci- 
fied, emphatic force is denoted by it. 

1. The imperative mood, as used to express the com- 
mands of a superior, denotes that energy of thought which 
usually requires the falling slide. Thus Milton supposes 
Gabriel to speak, at the head of his radiant files. 

* He gives an example from Paul, with the pronunciation which 
he proposes ; — " post percontationem, Quis accusabit adversus electos 
Dei? illud quod sequitur sono interrogantis enuntietur, Deus qui 
justificat P ut tacite respondeatur, Non. Et item percontemur, Quis 
est qui condemnat ? rursus interrogemus, Christus Jesus, qui mortuus 
est? etc. ut ubique tacite respondeatur, Non." 

De Doctrina Christiana, Lib, III. Cap. 3, 



58 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 

Uzziel ! half these draw off and coast the south, 
With strictest watch ; these other, wheel the'north. — 

— Ithuriel and Zephon ! with wing'd speed 

Search through this garden ; leave unsearch'd no nook. 

This evening from the sun's decline arriv'd 

Who tells of some infernal spirit seen, 

Hitherward bent : — 

Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. 

Thus in the battle of Rokeby, young Redmond ad- 
dressed his soldiers; 

'Up, comrades ! up ! — in Rokeby 's halls 
Ne'er be it said our courage falls. 

No language surpasses the English, in the spirit and 
vivacity of its imperative mood, and vocative case. These 
often are found together in the same address; and when 
combined with emphasis, separately or united, they have 
the falling slide, and great strength. 

2. Denunciation and reprehension, on the same princi- 
ple, commonly require the falling inflection ; as, 

Wo unto you, Pharisees ! for ye love the uppermost seats in the 
synagogues. Wo unto you, lawyers ! for ye have taken away the 
key of knowledge. But God said unto him, thou fool ! — this night 
thy soul shall be required of thee. But Jesus said, Why tempt ye 
me, ye hypocrites ? Paul said to Elymas, O full of all subtlety, 
and all mischief! Thou child of the Devil, — thou enemy of all 
righteousness ! 

In the beginning of Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, Marul- 
lus, a patriotic Roman, finding in the streets some peas- 
ants, who were keeping holiday, for Caesar's triumph over 
the liberties of bis country, accosted them in this indig- 
nant strain ; 

Hence ! — home, you idle creatures, get you home. 

You blocks, you stones ! You worse than senseless things ? 



INFLFXTIONS FALLING. 50 

This would be tame indeed, should we place the un- 
emphatic, rising slide on these terms of reproach, thus : 

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 

The strong reprehension of our Savior, addressed to 
the tempter, would lose much of its meaning, if uttered 
with the gentle, rising slide, thus ; Get thee behind me, Sa- 
tan. But it becomes very significant, with the emphatic 
downward inflection ; Get thee behind me, — Satan. 

3. Exclamation, when it does not express tender 
emotion, nor ask a question, inclines to adopt the falling 
slide. 

Terror expresses itself in this way. Thus the ap- 
pearance of the ghost in Hamlet produces the exclama- 
tion : 

'Angels! and ministers of graee, — defend us.* 

Exclamation, denoting surprise, or reverence, or dis- 
tress, — or a combination of these different emotions, gene- 
rally adopts the falling slide, modified indeed by the de- 
gree of emotion. For this reason I suppose that Mary, 
weeping at the sepulchre, when she perceived that the 
person whom she had mistaken for the gardener, was the 
risen Savior himself, exclaimed with the tone of reve- 
rence and surprise, — Rabbdni ! And the same inflection 
probably was used by the leprous men when they cried 
Jfous, Master I have mercy on us ; instead of the collo- 

* The city watch is startled, not so much by the words of distress 
that echo through the stillness of midnight, as by the tones that de- 
note the reality of that distress ; — " help !— murder !— -help j" Trie 
man whose own house is in flames, cries, fire ! — fire ! : ' It is only 
from the truant boy in the streets that we hear the careless exclama- 
tion, " fire, fire." 



60 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 

quial tone Jesus, Master, which is commonly used in 
reading the passage, and which expresses nothing of the 
distress and earnestness which prompted this cry. These 
examples are distinguished from the vocative case, when 
it merely calls to attention, or denotes affection. 

14] Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars 
requires the falling slide.* The reason is, that a distinc- 
tive utterance is necessary to fix the attention on each 
particular. The figure asyndeton, or omission of copula- 
tives, especially when it respects clauses, and not single 
words, belongs to this class ; as, 

Go and tell John what things ye have seen and heard ; — the 
blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, 
the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached. — Charity 
6uffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth 
not itself; is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly : seek- 
eth not her own ; is not easily provoked ; thinketh no evil. — Thrice 
was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice I suffered ship- 
wreck ; a night and a day have I been in the deep. 

In each of these examples, all the pauses except the 
last but one, (for the sake of harmony,) require the down- 
ward slide. The polysyndeton, requiring a still more de- 
liberate pronunciation, adopts the same slide ; as, 

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with 
all thy 60ul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and 
thy neighbor as thyself. 

Note 1. When the principle of emphatic series in— 

* The loose sentence, though it does not strictly belong to this 
rule, commonly coincides with it ; because in the appended member 
or members, marked by the semicolon or colon, a complete sense, at 
each of these pauses, is so far expressed as generally to admit the 
falling slide. 



INFLECTIONS FALLING. 61 

terferes with that of the suspending slide, one or the oth- 
er prevails, according to the nature of the case. WJien 
the structure is hypothetical, and yet the sense is such, 
and so far formed as to admit emphasis, the falling slide 
prevails, thus : 

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all 
mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so 
that I could remove mountains, and: have not charity, I am noth- 
ing. 

But when the series begins a sentence, and each particu- 
lar hangs on something still to come, for its sense, there 
is so little emphasis that the rising slide, denoting suspen- 
sion, is required ; thus, — 

The pains of getting, the fear of losing, and the inability of en- 
joying his wealth, have made the miser a mark of satire, in all 
ages. 

Note 2. The principle of emphatic series, may form 
an exception to Rule III. as, 

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed ; perplexed, 
but not in despair ; persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but 
not destroyed.* 

Note 3. Emphatic succession of particulars grows 
intensive as it goes on ; that is, on each succeeding em- 
phatic word, the slide has more stress, and a higher note, 
than on the preceding ; thus, — 

* All Walker's rules of inflection as to a series of single words, 
when unemphatic, are in my opinion, worse than useless. No rule 
of harmonic inflection, that is independent of sentiment, can be 
established without too much risk of an artificial habit, unless it be 
this one, that the voice should rise at the last pause before the ca- 
dence ; and even this may be superseded by emphasis. 

6 



62 



INFLECTIONS FALLING. 






>o. V*a 



»&. 



I tell you, though\^ though all the \^> though an an 



^> 



gel from ^v should declare the truth of it, I could not believe 
it. 

The rising slide, on the contrary, as it occurs in 
an emphatic series of direct questions, rises higher on 
each particular, as it proceeds. 

15] Rule X. Emphatic repetition requires the fall- 
ing slide. 

Whatever inflection is given to a word, in the first in- 
stance, when that word is repeated with stress, it demands 
the falling slide. Thus in Julius Caesar, Cassius says ; 

You wrong me every way, you wrong me Brutus. 

The word wrong is slightly emphatic, with the falling 
slide, in the first clause ; but in the second, it requires a 
double or triple force of voice, with the same slide on a 
higher note, to express the meaning strongly. But the 
principle of this rule is more apparent still, w T hen the re- 
peated word changes its inflection. Thus I ask one at a 
distance, Are you going to Boston ? If he tells me that 
he did not hear my question, I repeat it with the other 
slide, Are you going to Boston ?* 

* In colloquial language, the point I am illustrating is quite 
familiar to every ear. The teacher calls a pupil by name in the 
rising inflection, and not being heard, repeats the call in the fall- 
ing. The answer to such a call, if it is a mere response, is " Sir ;" 
— if it expresses doubt, it is " Sir." A question that is not under- 
stood is repeated with a louder voice and a change of slide : " Is 
this your bdokf Is this your bdok?" Little children, with their 
first elements of speech, make this distinction perfectly. 



INFLECTIONS FALLING. 63 

I cannot forbear to say here, though the remark be- 
longs to style more than to delivery, that while it is the 
province of dulness to repeat the same thoughts or words, 
from mere carelessness ; there is scarcely a more vivid 
figure of rhetoric than repetition, when it springs from 
genius and emotion. But as the finest strains of music 
derive increase of spirit and effect from repetition, so in 
delivery, increase of emotion demands a correspondent 
stress and inflection of voice. For this reason, the com- 
mon method of reading our Savior's parable of the wise 
and the foolish builder, with the rising slide on both parts, 
is much less impressive than that which adopts the falling 
slide with increase of stress on the series of particulars as 
repeated. 

Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I 
will liken him unto a wise man which built his house upon a rock : 
and the rain descended, and the. floods came, and the winds blew, 
and beat upon that house, and it fell not, — for it was founded upon 
a rock. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and 
doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, that built his 
house upon the sand : and the rain descended, and the floods came 
and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell ; — and 
great was the fall of it. 

16] Rule XI. The final pause requires the falling 
slide. 

That dropping of the voice which denotes the sense 
to be finished, is so commonly expected by the ear, that 
the worst readers make a cadence of some sort, at the 
close of a sentence. In respect to this, some general 
faults may be guarded against, though it is not possible to 
tell in absolute terms what a good cadence is ; because, 
in different circumstances, it is modified by different prin- 



64 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 

ciples of elocution. The most common fault in the ca- 
dence of bad speakers, consists in dropping the voice too 
uniformly to the same note. The next consists in drop- 
ping it too much. The next, in dropping it too far from 
the end of the sentence, or beginning the cadence too 
soon ; and another still consists in that feeble and indis- 
tinct manner of closing sentences, which is common to 
men unskilled in managing the voice. We should take 
care also to mark the difference between that downward 
turn of the voice which occurs at the falling slide in the 
middle of a sentence, and that which occurs at the close. 
The latter is made on a lower note, and if emphasis is 
absent, with less spirit than the former ; As, " This 
heavenly benefactor claims, not the homage of our lips, but 
of our hearts : and who can doubt that he is entitled to the 
homage of our hearts." Here the word hearts has the 
same slide in the middle of the sentence as at the close. 
Though it has a much lower note in the latter case than 
in the former. 

It must be observed too that the final pause does not 
always require a cadence. When the strong emphasis 
with the falling slide comes near the end of a sentence, 
it turns the voice upward at the close ; as, " If we have 
no regard to our own character, we ought to have some 
regard to the character of others." " You were paid to 
fight against Alexander, not to rail at him." This is a 
departure from a general rule of elocution ; but it is only 
one case among many, in which emphasis asserts its su- 
premacy over any other principle that interferes with its 
claims. Indeed, any one who has given but little attention 
to this point, would be surprised to observe accurately, 



CIRCUMFLEX. 65 



how often sentences are closed, in conversation, without 
any proper cadence ; the voice being carried to a high 
note, on the last word, sometimes with the falling, and 
sometimes with the rising slide, 



CIRCUMFLEX. 

17] Rule XII. The circumflex occurs chiefly 
where the language is either hypothetical or ironical. 

The most common use of it is to express indefinitely 
or conditionally some idea that is contrasted with another 
idea expressed or understood, to which the falling slide 
belongs ; thus ; — Hume said he would go twenty miles, to 
hear Whitefield preach. The contrast suggested by the 
circumflex here is ; though he would take no pains to 
hear a cdmmon preacher. You ask a physician concern- 
ing your friend who is dangerously sick, and receive this 
reply. — He is better. The circumflex denotes only a 
partial, doubtful amendment, and implies But he is still 
dangerously sick. The same turn of voice occurs in the 
following example, on the word importunity. 

Though he will not rise and give him because he is his friend, 
yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many 
as he needeth. 

This circumflex, when indistinct, coincides nearly with 
the rising slide; when distinct, it denotes qualified af- 
firmation instead of that which is positive as marked by 
the falling slide. This hint suggests a much more perfect 
rule than that of Walker, by which to ascertain the proper 

slide under the emphasis. See Emphatic Inflection, pp. 
80 — 88. 

6* 



j 



CHAP. IV. 



ACCENT. 



18] Accent is a stress laid on particular syllables, 
to promote harmony and distinctness of articulation. The 
syllable on which accent shall be placed, is determined 
by custom ; and that without any regard to the meaning 
of words, except in these few cases. 

First, where the same word in form, has a different 
sense, according to the seat of the accent. This may be 
the case while the word continues to be the same part of 
speech, as, des'ert, (a wilderness) desert', {merit) — to 
conjure, {to use magic) to conjure', {to entreat). Or 
the accent may distinguish between the same w T ord used 
as a noun or an adjective ; as, com'pact, {an agreement) 
compact', {close) minute, {of time) minute', {small). Or 
it may distinguish the noun from the verb, thus : 



Ab'stract 


to abstract' 


ex'port 


to export' 


com'pound 


to compound' 


ex' tract 


to extract' 


com'press 


to compress' 


im'port 


to import' 


concert 


to concert' 


in' cense 


to incense' 


con' duct 


to conduct' 


in' suit 


to insult' 


con'fine 


to confine' 


ob'ject 


to object' 


con' tract 


to contract' 


pres'ent 


to present' 


con'trast 


to contrast 7 


pro'ject 


to project' 


con' vert 


to convert' 


reb'el 


to rebel' 


con'vict 


to convict' 


tor'ment 


to torment' 


di'gest 


to digest' 


trans' port 


to transport' 



ACCENT. 67 



The province of emphasis is so much more important 
than that of accent, that the customary seat of the latter is 
transposed in any case where the claims of emphasis re- 
quire it. This takes place chiefly in words which have 
a partial sameness in form, but are contrasted in sense. 

EXAMPLES. 

He must increase, but I must decrease. 

This corruptible must put on ^corruption ; and this mdrtal must 
put on immortality. 

What fellowship hath righteousness with Unrighteousness ? 

Consider well what you have ddne, and what you have left un- 
done. 

He that Ascended is the same as he that descended. 

The difference in this case, is no less than betwixt decency and 
indecency; betwixt religion and irreligion. 

In the suitableness or unsuitableness, the proportion or dispro- 
portion of the affection to the object which excites it, consists the 
propriety or impropriety of the consequent action .* 

With those considerations respecting accent which 
belong especially to the grammarian, we have no con- 
cern. As connected with articulation, the influence of 
accent was briefly discussed, [2] page 28. As connect- 
ed with inflection, an additional remark seems necessary 
here. The accented syllable of a word is always uttered 
with a louder note than the rest. When the syllable has 
the rising inflection, the slide continues upward till the 
word is finished ; so that when several syllables of a word 
follow the accent, they rise to a higher note than that 
which is accented; and when the accented syllable is the 

* In this last example, the latter accented word in each of the 
couplets, perhaps would be more exactly marked with the circum- 
flex ; the same case occurs often, as in p. 64, last paragraph. 



68 



ACCENT. 



last in a word, it is also the highest. But when the ac- 
cented syllable has the falling slide, it is always struck 
with a higher note than any other syllable in that word. 
The reader may easily understand this remark by turning 
to the example, page 50, at the bottom ; and then framing 
for himself other examples, with an accent in the middle 
of a long word ; as, 

Did he dare to propose such interrdo-atories ? 

Here the slide which begins on rog continues to rise on 
the three following syllables ; whereas in the question, 
Will you go to day 1 ? the same slide terminates with the 
syllable on which it begins. But no example can be 
framed with the falling inflection, (the cadence only ex- 
cepted,) in which the accented syllable, where the slide 
begins, is not higher than any other syllable before or af- 
ter it.* This remark furnishes another opportunity to 
correct the very common mistake of those who think the 
falling inflection to consist in a sudden dropping of the 
voice, whereas it consists in sliding it down, and that from 
a high note, whenever there is iutensive stress. 



* I dwell a little on the above distinction, because, in my opin- 
ion, Walker, and Ewing after him, have stated it incorrectly. 



CHAP. V. 



EMPHASIS. 

One elementary principle which has been more than 
once suggested already, respecting management of the 
voice, deserves to be repeated here, because of its direct 
bearing on the subject of this chapter and the next. 

No useful purpose can be answered by attempting to 
establish any system of inflections in reading and speak- 
ing, except so far as these inflections do actually accom- 
pany, in good speakers, the spontaneous expression of 
sentiment and emotion. We say, without any scruple, 
that certain feelings of the speaker are commonly ex- 
pressed with certain modifications of voice. These mod- 
ifications we can describe in a manner not difficult to be 
understood. But here a serious obstacle meets us. The 
pupil is told how emotion speaks in a given case, and then 
he attempts to do the same thing without emotion. But 
great as this difficulty is, it is not peculiar to any one 
mode of instruction ; it attends every system of elocution 
that can be devised. Take, for example, the standing 
canon, be natural, which for ages has been thought the 
only adequate direction in delivery. This maxim is just ; 
it is simple ; it is easily repeated by a teacher ; — but who 
does not know that it has been repeated a thousand times 
without any practical advantage ? What is it to be natu- 
ral '? It is so to speak that the modifications of voice 



70 EMPHASIS. 

shall be such as feeling demands. But here is the same 
obstacle as before ; — the pupil attempts to be natural in 
speaking, and fails, just because he attempts to do what 
feeling demands, without feeling. This intrinsic difficul- 
ty accompanies every theory on this subject, even when 
no perverted habits of voice are to be encountered, and 
much more where such habits exist. The only remedy 
to be relied on is that which I have briefly urged in an- 
other place. The Teacher, who would give his pupils a 
just emphasis and modulation, must unceasingly impress 
on them the importance of entering with feeling into the 
sentiments which they are to utter. 

Emphasis is governed by the laws of sentiment, be- 
ing inseparably associated with thought and emotion. It 
is the most important principle, by which elocution is re- 
lated to the operations of mind. Hence when it stands 
opposed to the claims of custom or of harmony, these al- 
ways give way to its supremacy. The accent which cus- 
tom attaches to a word, emphasis may supersede ; as we 
have seen under the foregoing article. Custom requires 
a cadence at the final pause, but emphasis often turns the 
voice upward at the end of a sentence ; as, 

You were paid to fight against Alexander, not to rail at him. 

See [16] p. 64. Harmony requires the voice to rise at the 
pause before the cadence; whereas emphasis sometimes 
prescribes the falling slide at this pause, to enforce the 
sense ; as, 

Better to reign in Jdll, than serve in ktaven. 

Now I presume that every one, who is at all accus- 
tomed to accurate observation on this subject, must be 



EMPHATIC STXtESS. 71 

sensible how very little this grand principle is regarded in 
forming our earliest habits of elocution ; and therefore 
how hopeless are all efforts to correct what is wrong in 
these habits, without a just knowledge of emphasis. 

What then is emphasis ? Without staying to assign 
reasons why I am dissatisfied with definitions heretofore 
given by respectable writers, the following is offered as 
more complete, in my opinion, than others which I have 
seen. Emphasis is a distinctive utterance of words, which 
are especially significant, with such a degree and hind of 
stress, as conveys their meaning in the best manner. 

According to this definition, I would include the whole 
subject under emphatic stress and emphatic inflection. 

19] Sect. 1. — Emphatic Stress. 

This consists chiefly in the loudness of the note, but 
includes also the time in which important words are utter- 
ed. Both these are commonly united ; but the latter, 
since it will require some notice when I come to speak of 
rate and emphatic pause, may be dismissed here, as to its 
separate consideration, with a single remark. A good 
reader or speaker, when he utters a word on which the 
meaning of a sentence is suspended, spontaneously dwells 
on that word, or gives it more time, according to the in- 
tensity of its meaning. The significance and weight 
which he thus attaches to words that are important, is a 
very different thing from the abrupt and jerking empha- 
sis, which is often witnessed in a bad delivery. Bearing 
this fact in mind, we may proceed to consider, more par- 
ticularly, why emphatic stress belongs to some words, and 
not to others. 



?£ EMPHATIC STRESS. 



The indefinite description which was formerly given 
of emphasis, as ' a stress laid on one or more words to 
distinguish them from others,' was attended with a corres- 
pondent confusion in practice. In some books of elocu- 
tion, more than half the words were printed in Italics, and 
regarded as equally emphatical. To remedy so great a 
fault, Walker proposed his threefold classification of words, 
* as pronounced with emphatic force, accented force, or 
unaccented force.' The first he considered as belonging 
to words of a peculiar significance ; the second to nouns, 
verbs, he. — the third to connectives and particles. But 
these distinctions, after all, leave a very plain subject in 
obscurity ; for it is enough to say that emphatic force is 
to be governed solely by sense ; and that the word, to 
whatever part of speech it belongs, which renders but lit- 
tle aid in forming the sense, should be passed over with 
but little stress of voice. It is indeed generally true that 
a subordinate rank belongs to particles, and to all those 
words which merely express some circumstance of a 
thought. And when a word of this sort is raised above 
its relative importance, by an undue stress in pronuncia- 
tion, we perceive a violence done to other words of more 
significance ; and we hardly admit even the metrical ac- 
cent of poetry to be any excuse for so obvious an offence 
against propriety. One example of this sort we have in 
the common manner of reading this couplet of Watts — 

Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, 
Let a repenting rebel live. 

The stress upon a, in the second line, shows the absence 
of just discrimination in the reader.* 

* I beg leave to ask here, if it shows want of taste in the reader, 
in such a case, to sacrifice the sense to the syllabic accent of po- 



EMPHATIC STRESS. 73 

But to show that emphasis attaches itself not to the 
part of speech, but to the meaning of a word, let one of 
these little words become important in sense, and then it 
demands a correspondent stress of voice. 

"We have an example in the two following sentences, 
ending with the particle so. In one it is used incidentally, 
and is barely to be spoken distinctly. In the other it is 
the chief word, and must be spoken forcibly. " And Saul 
said unto Michal, why hast thou deceived me so ?" " Then 
said the high priest, are these things so V 

Another example may show how a change of stress 
on a particle changes the entire sense of a sentence. In 
the narrative of Paul's voyage from Troas to Jerusalem, 
it is said, " Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus." 
This sentence, with a moderate stress on Ephesus, im- 
plies that the Apostle meant to stop there ; just as a com- 
mon phrase, " the ship is going to Holland by Liverpool," 
— implies that she will touch at the latter place. 

Now what was the fact in the case of Paul ? The 



etry, why is it, that, in the sister art of music, as applied to metri- 
cal psalmody, no practical distinction is made between accent and 
emphasis ? On the contrary, a choir is so trained in psalmody, as 
not to reflect whether one word has more meaning than another, 
but whether its relative position requires strong or feeble utterance. 
Thus a full volume of sound is poured out on a. preposition, for ex- 
ample, just because it happens to coincide with a musical note at 
the beginning of a bar. Illustrations of this are so many that they 
may be taken almost at random. In the Hymn beginning, 

God of the morning, at whose voice, 
the musical accent, in many tunes would recur four times during 
the line, and two of these on prepositions. But is there no philos- 
ophy and rhetoric in music? Is the spirit of this divine art to be 
rigidly tied down by mere rules of harmony and metrical stress ? 
Music is but an elegant and charming species of elocution. And, 
important as accent is, it should never contravene the laws of sen- 
timent in the former, more than in the latter art. 

7 



74 EMPHATIC STRESS. 



historian says, " he hasted to be at Jerusalem, on the day 
of Pentecost." Therefore he could not afford the time 
it would require to visit his dear friends, the Ephesian 
church, and he chose to pursue his voyage without see- 
ing them. But can the words be made to express mis 
sense ? Perfectly ; — and that with only an increase of 
stress on one particle. " Paul had determined to sail by 
Ephesus." 

Another example shows us a succession of small words 
raised to importance, by becoming peculiarly significant. 
In Shakspeare's Merchant of Venice, Bassanio had re- 
ceived a ring from his wife, with the strongest protestation 
that it should never part from his finger ; but, in a mo- 
ment of generous gratitude for the preservation of his 
friend's life, he forgot this promise, and gave the ring to 
the officer to whose kind interposition he ascribed that 
deliverance. With great mortification at the act, he after- 
wards made the following apology to his wife, an unem- 
phatic pronunciation of which leaves it scarcely intelligi- 
ble ; while distinct emphasis on a few small words gives 
it precision and vivacity, thus : 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 

If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 

And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 

And how unwillingly I left the ring, 

When nought would be accepted but the ring, 

You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

In the case that follows too, we see how the meaning 
of a sentence often depends on the manner in which we 
utter one short word. " One of the servants of the high 
priest, (being his kinsman whose ear Peter cut off,) saith, 



EMPHATIC STRESS. 75 



did not I see thee in the garden with him ?" Now if we 
utter this, as most readers do, with a stress on kinsman^ 
and a short pause after it,- we make the sentence affirm 
that the man whose ear Peter cut off was kinsman to the 
high priest, which was not the fact. But a stress upon his, 
makes this servant, kinsman to another man, who receiv- 
ed the wound. 

One more example may suffice, on this point. When 
our Savior said to Peter ; — " Lovest thou me more than 
these ?" — he probably referred to the confident professions 
of his own attachment to Christ, which the apostle had 
presumed would remain unshaken, though that of his breth- 
ren should fail ; but which profession he had wofully vio- 
lated in the hour of trial. If this is the spirit of the ques- 
tion, it is a tender but severe admonition, which would be 
expressed by emphasis, thus ; " Lovest thou me, more 
than thesel" that is, more than thy brethren love me? 

But respectable interpreters have supposed the ques- 
tion to refer to Peter's affection merely, and to contrast 
two objects of that affection ; and this would change the 
emphasis thus ; — " Lovest thou me more than these V — 
that is, more than thou lovest thy brethren ? 

These illustrations show that the principle of emphat- 
ic stress is perfectly simple ; and that it falls on a partic- 
ular word, not chiefly because that word belongs to one 
or another class in grammar, but because, in the present 
case, it is important in sense. To designate the words 
that are thus important, by the action of the voice in em- 
phasis, is just what the etymological import of this term 
implies, namely, to show, to point out, to make manifest. 

But farther to elucidate a subject, that has been treat- 



76 EMPHATIC STRESS. 



ed with much obscurity, emphatic stress may be distin- 
guished into that which is absolute, and that which is an- 
tithetic or relative. 

20] 1 . Absolute emphatic stress. 

Walker, and others who have been implicitly guided 
by his authority, without examination, lay down the broad 
position, that emphasis always implies antithesis ; and that 
it can never be proper to give emphatic stress to a word, 
unless it stands opposed to something in sense. Accord- 
ingly, to find the emphasis in a sentence, the direction 
given is, to take the word we suppose to be emphatical, 
and try if it will admit of those words being supplied, 
which antithesis would demand ; and if the words thus 
supplied, agree with the meaning of the writer, the em- 
phasis is laid properly, — otherwise, improperly. 

EXAMPLE. 

Exercise and temperance strengthen even an indifferent consti- 
tution. 

The emphatic word here suggests, as the antithetic 
clause to be supplied ; — not merely a good constitution ; 
and this accords with the meaning of the writer. 

Now the error of these treatises is, that what in truth 
is only one important ground of emphasis, is made the 
sole and the universal ground. Indeed, if it were admit- 
ted that there is no emphasis without antithesis, it would 
by no means follow, (as I shall show under emphatic in- 
flection,) that all cases of opposition in thought are to be 
analyzed in the mode above proposed. But the princi- 
ple assumed cannot be admitted ; for to say that there is 



EMPHATIC STRESS. 77 



no absolute emphasis, is to say that a thought is never im- 
portant, considered by itself; or that the figure of con- 
trast is the only way in which a thought can be express- 
ed with force. The theory which supposes this, is too 
narrow to correspond with the philosophy of elocution. 
Emphasis is the soul of delivery, because it is the most 
discriminating mark of emotion. Contrast is among the 
sources of emotion : and the kind of contrast really in- 
tended by Walker and others, namely, that of affirmation 
and negation, it is peculiarly the province of emphasis to 
designate. But this is not the whole of its province. 
There are other sources, besides antithetic relation, from 
which the mind receives strong and vivid impressions, 
which it is the office of vocal language to express. Thus 
exclamation, apostrophe, and bold figures in general, de- 
noting high emotion, demand a correspondent force in 
pronunciation ; and that too in many cases where the em- 
phatic force laid on a word is absolute, because the thought 
expressed by that word i& forcible of itself, without any 
aid from contrast. Of this the reader may be satisfied 
by turning to [13] p. 57, and noting such examples as 
these : 

' Up ! comrades, — up /— 

Wo unto you, Pharisees !— 

Hence ! — home, you idle creatures — 

1 Angels ! and ministers of grace, — defend us.* 

* The following anecdote of Whitefield, which is probably fa- 
miliar to most readers, contains an illustration altogether to my 
purpose. It is a passage repeated by Hume, from the close of a 
sermon which he heard from that preacher. " After a solemn 
pause, Mr. Whitefield thus addressed his numerous audience: ' The 

attendant angel is just about to leave the threshold, and ascend to 
7# 



78 RELATIVE STRESS. 

Now, in such a case, we may speculate on the em- 
phatic force of the exclamation, and ' try if the sense will 
admit some antithetic clause to be supplied ; J but it is mere 
trifling. The truth is, when strong passion speaks, it 
speaks strongly, and, if no untoward habit intervenes, 
speaks with just that degree and kind of stress which 
the passion itself demands. 

21] 2. Antithetic or relative stress. 

Though we cannot consider opposition in sense as 
the exclusive ground of strong emphasis, it is doubtless a 
more common one than any other. The principle on 
which the stress depends in this case, will be evident from 
a few examples. 

Study, not so much to shotc knowledge, as to acquire it. 

He that cannot bear a jest, should not make one. 

It is not so easy to hide one's faults, as to mend them. 

We think less of the injuries we do, than of those we suffer. 

It is not so difficult to talk well, as to live well. 

We must take heed not only to what we say, but to what we do. 

In these short sentences the antithetic words, requir- 
ing emphatic force, are so obvious that they can hard- 
ly be mistaken by any one. When the antithetic terms 
in a sentence are both expressed, the mind instantly per- 

heaven. And shall he ascend, and not bear with him the news of 
one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of 
his ways?' Then he stamped with his foot, lifted up his hands and 
eyes to heaven, and with gushing tears, cried aloud, — ' Stop, Ga- 
briel ! stop, Gabriel ! stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet 
carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God.' " The 
high emotion of the speaker in this case, and the powers of utter- 
ance with which that emotion was expressed, melted the assembly 
into tears. 



RELATIVE STRESS. 79 

ceives the opposition between them, and the voice as 
readily marks the proper distinction. But when only one 
of these terms is expressed, the other is to be made out 
by reflection ; and in proportion to the ease or difficulty 
with which this antithetic relation is perceived by the 
mind, the emphatic sense is more or less vivid. On this 
principle, when a word expresses one part of a contrast, 
while it only suggests the other, that word must be spok- 
en with force adapted to its peculiar office ; and this is 
the very case where the power of emphasis rises to its 
highest point. This part of the subject too may be ren- 
dered more intelligible by a few examples. 

Shakspeare's Julius Caesar furnishes several which 
are sufficiently appropriate. In the scene betwixt Brutus 
and Cassius, the latter says, 

I that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart. 

Here the antithetic terms gold and heart, being both ex- 
pressed, a common emphatic stress on these makes the 
sense obvious. But in the following case only one part 
of the antithesis is expressed. Brutus says, 

You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case. 

The strong emphasis on yourself, implies that Cassius 
thought himself injured by some other person. Accord- 
ingly we see in the preceding sentence his charge against 
Brutus. — " you have wrong'd me." 
Again, Brutus says to Cassius, 

You have done that you should be sorry for. 
With a slight stress upon sorry, this implies that he had 
done wrong ; but suggests nothing of the antithetic mean- 
ing, denoted by the true emphasis, thus, 

You have done that you should be sorry for. 



80 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 

This emphasis on the former word implies, " Not only- 
are you liable to do wrong, but you have done so al- 
ready ;" on the latter it implies, " though you are not 
sorry, you ought to be sorry." This was precisely the 
meaning of Brutus, for he replied to a threat of Cassius, 
" I may do that I shall be sorry for." 

One more example from the same source. Marullus, 
alluding to the reverence in which Pompey had been held, 
says, 

And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
Have you not made a universal shout ? 

Lay a stress now on his in the first line, and you make a 
contrast betwixt the emotion felt in seeing other chariots, 
and in seeing Pompey's. Lay the stress on chariot, and 
it is not implied that there was any other besides his in 
Rome ; for then the antithesis suggested is, the sight, not 
of his person merely, but of the vehicle in which he rode, 
produced a shout. 

22] Sect. 2. — Emphatic Inflection. 

Thus far our view of emphasis has been limited to the 
degree of stress, with which emphatic words are spoken. 
But this is only a part of the subject. The kind of stress 
is not less important to the sense than the degree. Let 
any one glance his eye over the examples of the forego- 
ing pages, and he will see that strong emphasis demands, 
in all cases, an appropriate inflection ; and that to change 
this inflection perverts the sense. This will be perceived 
at once in the following case, " We must take heed not 
only to what we say, but to what we dd" By changing 



EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 81 

this slide, and laying the falling on say and the rising on do, 
every ear must feel that violence is done to the meaning. 
So in this case, 

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars ; 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings ; 

the rising inflection or circumflex on stars and the falling 
inflection on ourselves is so indispensable, that no reader 
of the least taste would mistake the one for the other. 
The fact in these instances however is, that wrong inflec- 
tion confounds the true sense, rather than expresses a false 
one. Let us then take an example or two in which the 
whole meaning of a sentence depends on the inflection 
given to a single word. Buchanan, while at the Univer- 
sity, said, in a letter to a Christian friend, 

In the retirement of a cdllege, I am unable to suppress evil 
thoughts. 

Here the emphatic downward slide being given to college, 
expresses the true sense, namely, " How difficult must it 
be to keep my heart from evil thoughts amid the tempta- 
tions of the world ; when I cannot do this even in the re- 
tirement of a cdllege." But lay the circumflex on col- 
lege, thus ; "In the retirement of a college, I cannot sup- 
press evil thoughts ;" and you transform the meaning to 
this, " I cannot suppress evil thoughts here, in retirement, 
though I might perhaps do it amid the temptations of the 
world." 

In the Fair Penitent Horatio says, 

I would not turn aside from my least pleasure, 
Though all thy force were arm'd to bar my way. 

The circumflex on thy implies sneer and scorn. " I might 



82 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 

turn aside for respectable opposition, but not for such as 
thne" But the falling slide on thy turns contempt into 
compliment. " I would not turn aside even for thy force, 
great as it is." 

One more question remains to be answered ; how 
shall we know when an emphatic word demands the ris- 
ing, and when the falling inflection ? A brief reply to 
this inquiry seems indispensable, before we drop this part 
of the subject. 

On this point, the " grand distinction" of Walker, as 
he calls it, is ; — " The falling inflection affirms something 
in the emphasis, and denies what is opposed to it in the 
antithesis ; ivhile the emphasis with the rising inflection, 
affirms something in the emphasis, without denying what is 
opposed to it in the antithesis. 

I have always considered it a great infelicity that the 
many excellent remarks of this writer on emphatic inflec- 
tion, are so destitute of intelligible classification. On his 
theory, which makes antithesis essential to emphasis, uni- 
versally, and antithesis too by affirmation and negation, — 
the amount of more than twenty pages, designed to illus- 
trate the above position, is simply this; — When affirmation 
is opposed to negation, — the emphatic word or clause 
which affirms, has the falling inflection, and that which 
denies, the rising. This is so plainly an elementary prin- 
ciple of vocal inflection, as I have shown [7] p. 49, that 
it requires no farther remark, except this one, that the 
case here supposed implies strong, positive affirmation. 

But the ingenious writer abovenamed perceived that 
there was still something to be explained about a part of 
this subject ; and therefore extended his canon concern- 



EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 83 

ing the emphasis with the rising inflection by saying, " that 
it affirms something in the emphasis without denying what 
is opposed to it in the antithesis." That the illustration 
of this point should be dark to his readers is not strange, 
since it evidently was so to himself. The first step he 
takes is to give an example, which unfortunately contra- 
dicts the theory it was designed to establish. 

'Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man, 
To forge a scroll so villanous and loose. 

His commentary on this emphasis is — " Unworthy of a 
man, though not unworthy of a brute." In repeating this, 
most certainly I both affirm and deny. I affirm that a 
certain act is unworthy of a man, and deny that it is un- 
worthy of a brute. What then becomes of the rule just 
stated ? 

Besides, if the rising emphatic inflection affirms on 
}ne side, without denying on the other, what becomes of 
the antithesis ? — and what becomes of the broad position, 
that without antithesis there can be no emphasis ? The 
truth is that this position being erroneous, the " intrica- 
cies of distinction" resulting from it are needless. One 
who is familiar with the simple rules of inflection, can sel- 
dom mistake as to the proper slide on an emphatic word. 
The voice instinctively accompanies emphatic, positive 
affirmation with the falling slide, and the antithetic nega- 
tion with the rising. 

But there is a large class of sentences, in which qual- 
ified affirmation demands the rising turn of voice, often 
where an antithetic object is suggested or expressed hypo- 
thetically. Having seen no satisfactory explanation of the 



84 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 

rising emphasis which occurs in such cases, I will briefly 
suggest my own thoughts on this point. And it should 
be premised that it is not the simple rising slide, but the 
circumflex, which designates this sort of emphasis. The 
two, indeed, as I have said before, may fall on shades of 
thought so nearly the same, that it is immaterial which is 
used ; while in other cases the office of the circumflex is 
so peculiar as to make it quite perceptible to an ear of 
any discrimination. In examples like the following ; 

We should seek to mend our faults, not hide them. 

You were paid to fight against Alexander, not to rail at him; 

it has been usual to mark the rising emphasis with the 
simple slide upwards ; whereas in unaffected conversation 
the twist of the circumflex is generally heard in such 
cases. 

With this preliminary remark, I proceed to say, that 
the plain distinction between- the rising and the falling 
emphasis, when antithetic relation is expressed or sug- 
gested, is, the falling denotes positive affirmation, or enun- 
ciation of a thought with energy; the rising either^ ex- 
presses negation, or qualified and conditional affirmation. 
In the latter case the antithetic object, if there is one, may 
be suggested ironically, or hypothetically, or comparative- 
ly ; thus — Ironically ; 

They tell #s to be moderate ; but they, they are to revel in profu- 
sion. 

Hypothetically ; 

If men see our faults, they will talk among themselves, though we 
refuse to let them talk to us. 

I see thou hast learn'd to rail. 






EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 85 

In this latter example, the hypothetical affirmation re- 
quires the circumflex on the emphasis, while the indefi- 
nite antithesis is not expressed, as in the preceding exam- 
ple, but suggested ; " Thou hast learn'd to rail, if thou 
hast not learn'd any thing better than this." 

Comparatively ; 

Satan 



The tempter, ere the accuser of mankind. 
The beggar was blind as well as lame. 
He is more knave than fool. 
Csesar deserved blame more than fame. 

Now if any one chooses to ask the reason why these em- 
phatic inflections occur in this order, he may see it per- 
haps by a bare inspection of the foregoing examples to- 
gether. In such a connexion of two correlate words, 
whether in contrast or comparison, the most prominent of 
the two in sense, that in which the essence of the thought 
lies, commonly has the strong, falling emphasis ; and that 
which expresses something subordinate or circumstantial, 
has the rising. The same rising or circumflex emphasis 
prevails where the thought is conditional, or something is 
implied or insinuated, rather than strongly expressed. v 
Negative clauses perhaps so generally fall into this class 
of inflections because they are so often only explanatory 
of the main thought. 

As the foregoing remarks have been confined chiefly 
to the inflection of relative emphasis, the reader may ex- 
pect me to dwell a little on the same point, as connected 
with absolute emphasis. 

Here the examples to be adduced will be a farther 
8 



86 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 



refutation of the theory which restricts emphasis wholly 
to antithesis by affirmation and denial. If this theory 
were correct, there would be no emphatic stress nor in- 
flection in the following cases ; 

1 . Of apposition ; 

Simon, Son of Jonas, — lovest thou me ? 

To affirm this, is to contradict Paul, the Apostle. 

In the multiplied cases of this sort, where two names 
are used for the same person, surely the ground of em- 
phasis on both, is not opposition in sense. 

2. Of the indirect question and its ansiver. 

Who first seduced them to that foul revolt ? 
The infernal strpent. — 

Where is boasting then ? — It is excluded. 
Here again the emphasis is absolute. 

3. Of the direct question and its answer. 

In Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, the indignant Marullus 
thus chides the citizens for their blind adoration of Caesar ; 

O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
Knew ye not Pompey V 

So afterwards, — 

And do you now strew flowers in his way, 
That comes in triumph over Pompey's bldodf 

Again,— 

Are they Hebrews ? — So agn T. 

Shall Rome be taken, while I am Consul? — JYd. 

In both sorts of question, there is indeed what may 
properly be termed contrast ; and in the direct question, 
this contrast between question and answer is marked by 



EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 87 

opposite inflection. But this is a case that does not at all 
come within Mr. Walker's rule, — " That the falling inflec- 
tion affirms something in the emphasis, and denies what 
is opposed to it in the antithesis ; and the rising affirms 
without such denial" Let this rule be tried by the fore- 
going examples, and it will be apparent that no antithesis 
by affirmation and denial can be made out in any of them, 
except by an effort of fancy. Take that one ending, — 
"Knew ye not PompeyV and instead of puzzling the 
mind to discover what is affirmed in the rising emphasis, 
and what is not denied, in a supposed antithesis, how much 
easier is it to say, — the case falls under that general law 
of interrogative inflection, which always inclines the voice 
upward. 

But these illustrations need not be extended. The 
amount is, that generally the weaker emphasis, where 
there is tender, or conditional, or partial enunciation of 
thought, requires the voice to rise : while the strong em- 
phasis, where the thought is bold, and the language posi- 
tive, adopts the falling slide, except where some counter- 
acting principle occurs, as in the interrogative inflection 
just mentioned. Emphatic inflection varies according to 
those general laws of the voice which I have endeavored 
to describe at some length, Chap. III. p. 42 — 65. For 
these varieties we may assign good reasons, in some ca- 
ses ; while in others we must stop with the fact, that such 
are the settled usages of elocution ; and in others still, we 
can only say such are the instinctive principles of vocal 
intonation.* In all such cases, explanation becomes ob- 

* A technical sense of this word, seems indispensable. 



88 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 

scurity, if carried out of its proper limits. Beyond these 
I can no more tell why sorrow or supplication incline the 
voice to the rising slide, while indignation or command in- 
cline it to the falling, than I can tell why one emotion 
flashes in the eye, and another vents itself in tears. Nor 
is it reasonable to demand such explanations on this sub- 
ject, as are not expected on any other. The logician rests 
in his consciousness and his experience as the basis of ar- 
gument ; and philosophy no more requires or allows us 
to push our inquiries beyond first principles or facts, in el- 
ocution, than in logic. 

23] In closing these remarks on emphatic inflection, 
the reader should be reminded that the distinction sug- 
gested, p. 43, between the common and the intensive in- 
flection, applies to every part of the subject. As empha- 
sis varies with sentiment in degrees of strength, it requires 
a correspondent difference in the force, the elevation of 
note, and the extent of slide, which distinguish important 
words. 

24] Emphatic Clause. 

Before I dismiss the article of emphasis, one or two 
points should have some notice, because they belong to 
the general subject, though not distinctly classed under 
the foregoing heads. 

It will be readily perceived that the stress proper to 
be laid on any single word, to denote its importance, de- 
pends much on the comparative stress with which other 
words in the same sentence are pronounced. A whis- 
per, if it is soft or strong, according to sense, may be as 
truly discriminating as the loudest tones. The voice 



EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 89 



should be disciplined to this distinction, in order to avoid 
the common fault, which confounds vociferation with em- 
phatic expression. Many, to become forcible speakers, 
utter the current words of a sentence in so loud a tone, 
that the whole seems a mere continuity of strong articu- 
late sounds ; or if emphatic stress is attempted on partic- 
ular words, it is done with such violence as to offend 
against all propriety. This is the declamatory manner. 
The power of emphasis, when it belongs to single words, 
depends on concentration. To extend it through a sen- 
tence, is to destroy it. 

But there are cases in which more than common 
stress belongs to several words in succession, forming an 
emphatic clause. This is sometimes called general em- 
phasis. In some cases of this sort, the several syllables 
have nearly equal stress : thus ; 



Heaven and earth will witness, 

If — Rome — must — fall, — that we are innocent. 

In uttering this emphatic clause, the voice drops its pitch, 
and proceeds nearly in a grave, deliberate monotone. 

In other cases, such a clause is to be distinguished 
from the rest of the sentence, by a general increase of 
force ; and yet its words retain a relative difference among 
themselves, in quantity, stress, and inflection. This ap- 
pears in the indignant reply of the youthful Pitt, to his 
aged accuser in debate ; 

But youth, it seems, is not my only crime ; I have been accus- 
ed, — of acting a theatrical part. 

And afterwards, arraigning the ministry, he said, 

As to the present gentlemen, — I cannot give them my confi- 

8* 



90 EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 



dence. Pardon me, gentlemen, — confidence is a plant of slow 
groicth. 

In both these cases the emphatic thought belongs to the 
whole clause, as marked, requiring a grave under-tone ; 
but one word in each must have more stress than the 
rest, and a note somewhat higher. 

The want of proper distinctions as to the emphatic 
clause, occasioned, if I mistake not, the difference of opin- 
ion between Garrick and Johnson respecting the seat of em- 
phasis in the ninth commandment ; " Thou shalt not bear 
false witness against thy neighbor." Garrick laid the stress 
on shalt, to express the authority of the precept ; Johnson 
on not, to express its negative character. But clearly both 
are wrong, for in neither of these respects is this command 
to be distinguished from others with which it is connect- 
ed. And if we place the stress on false or on neighbor, 
still an antithetic relation is suggested, which does not ac- 
cord with the design of the precept. Now let it be ob- 
served, that here is a series of precepts forbidding certain 
sins against man, our neighbor. Each of these is intro- 
duced with the prohibitory phrase, " thou shalt not," and 
then comes the thing forbid den ; in the sixth, kill ; — in the 
eighth, steal ; — in the ninth, " bear false witness" This 
shows the point of emphatic discrimination. In the latter 
case, the stress falls not on a single word, but on a clause, 
the last word of this clause, however, in the present case, 
demanding more stress than either of the others. 

One more example may make this last remark still 
plainer. Suppose Paul to have said merely, " I came 
not to baptize, but to preach" The contrast expressed 



EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 91 

limits the emphasis to two words. But take the whole 
sentence as it is in Paul's language, " I came not to bap- 
tize, but to preach the gospel ;"— and you have a con- 
trast between an emphatic word, and an emphatic clause. 
And though the sense is just as before, you must change 
the stress in this clause from preach to gospel, or you ut- 
ter nonsense. If you retain the stress on preach, the par- 
aphrase is " I came not to baptize the gospel, but to 
preach the gospel." 



DOUBLE EMPHASIS. 

This is always grounded on antithetic relation, ex- 
pressed in pairs of contrasted objects. It will be suffi- 
ciently illustrated by a very few examples. 

The young are slaves to novelty, the old to custom. 

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but 
considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye ? 

There is but one remark, which is important to be 
made in this case. In such a reduplication of emphasis, 
its highest effect is not to be expected. In attempting to 
give the utmost significance to each of the terms standing 
in close succession, we are in danger of diminishing the 
amount of meaning expressed by the whole. The only 
rule that can be adopted is so to adjust the stress and in- 
flection of voice on the different terms as shall most clear- 
ly, and yet most agreeably convey the sense of the entire 
passage. 



CHAP. VI. 



MODULATION. 

I use this term in the largest sense, as a convenient one 
to denote that variety in managing the voice, which ap- 
pears in the delivery of a good speaker.* This includes 
a number of distinct topics, which may perhaps with suf- 
ficient exactness be brought together in one chapter. 

Sect. 1. — Faults of Modulation. 

] . Monotony. 

The remark has been made in a former pnge, that 
the monotone, employed with skill, in pronouncing a sim- 
ile, or occasionally an elevated or forcible thought, may 
have great rhetorical effect. Its propriety in such a case, 
is felt instinctively ; just as other movements of the voice 
are felt to be proper, when they are prompted by genius 
and emotion. But the thing I mean to condemn has no 

* Though I admire precision in language, I must here again 
express my dissent from all needless distinctions on a subject so 
practical as this. Wright in his Elocution considers tune as equiv- 
alent to variety, harmony, cadence ; and tone, as equivalent to 
strength and compass ; and criticises Sheridan for making no such 
distinction. But surely no distinction and no definition of terms is 
as good as one too loose to be of any value. Technical terms eve- 
ry art and science must have ; but modern taste has very properly 
dispensed with a large proportion of those terms, which make the 
technical nomenclature of ancient rhetoric a greater burden to 
memory than the acquisition of a new language. 



FAULTS OF MODULATION. 93 

such qualities to give it vivacity. It is that dull repetition 
of sounds, on the same pitch, and with the same quantity, 
which the hearers are ready to ascribe, (and commonly 
with justice,) to the want of spirit in the speaker. They 
easily excuse themselves for feeling no interest in what 
he says, when apparently he feels none himself. Want 
of variety is fatal to vivacity and interest in delivery, on 
the same principle that it is so in all other cases. 

Let the poet be confined to one undeviating succes- 
sion of syllables and of rhyme, and who would be en- 
chanted with his numbers? Let the painter be con- 
fined to one color, and where is the magic of his art ? 
What gives its charm to the landscape ? — What gives life 
to the countenance, and language to the eye, as represent- 
ed on the canvass? Not such a use of colors as fits the 
character of a post or ceiling, all white, or all red ; but 
such a blending of colors as gives the variety of life 
and intelligence. The same difference exists between a 
heavy, uniform movement of the voice, and that which 
corresponds with real emotion. In music a succession of 
perfect concords, especially on the same note, would be 
intolerable. 

2. Mechanical variety. 

An unskilful reader perhaps is resolved to avoid mo- 
notony. In attempting to do this, he may fall into other 
habits, scarcely less offensive to the ear, and not at all 
more consistent with the principles of a just elocution. In 
uttering a sentence, he may think nothing more is neces- 
sary, than to employ the greatest possible number of notes ; 
and thus his chief aim is to leap from one extreme to an^ 



94 FAULTS OF MODULATION. 

other of his voice. In a short time, this attempt at varie- 
ty becomes a regular return of similar notes, at stated in- 
tervals. 

Another defect, of the same sort, arises from an at- 
tempt to produce variety by a frequent change of stress. 
The man is disgusted with the plodding uniformity that 
measures out syllables and words, as a dragoon does his 
steps. He aims therefore at an emphatic manner, which 
shall give a much greater quantity of sound to some words 
than to others. But here too the only advantage gained 
is, that he exchanges an absolute for a relative sameness ; 
for the favorite stress returns periodically, without regard 
to sense. 

There is still another kind of this uniform variety, 
which is extremely common at our public schools and 
colleges, and from them is carried into the different de- 
partments of public speaking. It consists in the habit of 
striking a sentence at the beginning, with a high and full 
voice, which becomes gradually weaker and lower, as the 
sentence proceeds, especially if it has much length, till it 
is closed perhaps with one quarter of the impulse with 
which it commenced. Then the speaker, at the beginning 
of a new sentence, inflates his lungs, and pours out a full 
volume of sound for a few words, sliding downward again, 
as on an inclined plane, to a feeble close. Besides the 
effort at variety, w T hich often produces this fault, it is in- 
creased in many cases, by that labor of lungs, and that 
unskilfulness in managing the breath, which attends want 
of custom in speaking. The man who has this habit, 
(and not a few have it, as any one would perceive, who 
should place himself just within hearing distance of twen- 






MODULATION. REMEDIES. 95 

ty public speakers, successively,) should spare no pains 
to overcome it, as a deadly foe to vivacity and effect in 
delivery. 

Sect. 2. — Remedies. 

The measures primarily to be adopted in regard to 
these habits, will be suggested here, while others that 
have an important bearing on the subject will come into 
view in the following sections. 

To find an adequate remedy for any of the above de- 
fects in modulation, we must enter into the elementary 
principles of delivery. As the meaning of what we read 
or speak, is supposed continually to vary, that elocution 
which best conforms to sense, will possess the greatest 
variety. 

1. The most indispensable attainment then, towards 
the cure of bad habits in managing the voice, is the spirit 
of emphasis. Suppose a student of elocution to have a 
scholastic tone, or some other of the faults mentioned 
above ; — teach him emphasis, and you have taken the 
most direct way to remove the defect. It is difficult to 
give a particular illustration of my meaning, except by the 
living voice ; but the experiment is worthy of a trial, to see 
if the faulty manner cannot be represented to the eye- 
Read the following passage from the Spectator ;* recol- 
lecting, at the beginning of each sentence, to strike the 
words in the largest type, with a high and full voice, grad- 
ually sinking away in pitch and quantity, as the type di- 
minishes, to the close. 

*No. 411. 



96 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 



EXAMPLE. 

OUR SIGHT IS THE MOST PERFECT, and MOST de- 
lightful, of all our senses. IT FILLS THE MIND 
WITH THE LARGEST VARIETY OF IDEAS, CONVERSES 
WITH ITS OBJECTS AT THE GREATEST DISTANCE, AND CON- 
TINUES THE LONGEST IN ACTION, WITHOUT BEING TIRED OR 
SATIATED WITH ITS PROPER ENJOYMENTS. THE SENSE OF 
FEELING CAN INDEED GIVE US A NOTION OF EXTENSION, 
SHAPE, AND ALL OTHER IDEAS THAT ENTER AT THE EYE, 

except colors. AT THE SAME TIME, IT is very MUCH 
CONFINED IN ITS OPERATIONS, TO THE NUMBER, BULK, AND 
DISTANCE OF ITS PARTICULAR OBJECTS. 

If Rhetoric had a term, something like the diminuendo 
of musicians, it might help to. designate the fault here rep- 
resented, consisting in the habit of striking sentences 
with a high and strong note, for a few words, and then 
falling away into a feeble close. 

If you succeed in understanding the above illustration, 
then vary the trial on the same example, with a view to 
another fault, the periodic stress and tone. Take care 
to speak the words printed in small capitals with a note 
sensibly higher and stronger than the rest, dropping the 
voice immediately after these elevated words, into an un- 
dulating tone, on the following syllables, — thus; 

Our sight is the most perfect, and most delightful of all our 
senses. It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, con- 
verses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the 
longest in action without being tired or satiated with its proper 
enjoyments. The sense of feeling can indeed give us a notion of 
extension, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye. ex- 



MODULATION. REMEDIES. 97 

cept colors. At the same 1 time, it is very much confined in its 
operations, to the number, bulk and distance of its particular ob- 
jects/ 

It is necessary now to give this same passage once 
more, so distinguishing the chief words, by the Italic char- 
acter, as to exhibit the true pronunciation. 

Our sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our sen- 
ses. It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas ; converses 
with its objects at the greatest distance ; and continues the longest 
in action, without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoy- 
ments. The sense of feeling can indeed give us a notion of exten- 
sion, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye, except colors. 
At the same time it is very much confined in its operations, to the 
number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects. 

Only two or three of the words as here marked require 
intensive emphasis, and that not of the highest kind ; and 
yet the student will perceive that a discriminating stress 
on the words thus marked, will regulate the voice, of 
course, as to all the rest ; and so render a scholastic tone 
impossible, 

* Walker's ear, though in cases of emphatic inflection very dis- 
criminating, seems in other cases to have been perverted by his the- 
ory of harmonic inflection, as appears from his manner of pronoun- 
cing the following couplet, which nearly coincides with the tone I 
am condemning. 

A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, 
And greatly falling, with a falling state. 

I am aware that it is difficult to represent this scholastic tone by 
any description to the eye. One who is acquainted with music 
may readily analyze any unseemly tone by examining the intervals 
of the notes above and below the key note of the sentence, in the 
few syllables to which the tone is confined. This analysis would 
give a precision to his knowledge of the subject, that would be 
valuable in practice. The hint may be sufficient to those who 
have skill and patience for such inquiries ; and to others, any ex- 
tended explanations would be useless. 

9 



98 



MODULATION. REMEDIES. 



But as no word in the foregoing passage is strongly 
emphatic, my meaning may be more evident from an ex- 
ample or two, where a discriminating stress on a single 
word, determines the manner in which the following words 
are to be spoken. 

Take this couplet from Pope, and read it first with 
the metrical accent and tone, thus ; 

What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
Is pride, the never failing vice of fools. 

Now let it be observed that in these lines there is 
really but one emphatic word, namely pride. If we mark 
this with the strong emphasis, and the falling inflection, 
the following words will of necessity be spoken as they 
should be, dropping a note or two below the key note of 
the sentence,* and proceeding nearly on a monotone to 
the end ;— thus ; — 

What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 



v*^ 



the never failing vice of fools. 



Another example may help to render this more in- 
telligible. 

Must we the author of the public calam^ 



Or must we des the author of the public calamities ? 



* By key note, I mean the prevailing note, that which you hear 
when a man reads aloud in another room, while you cannot dis- 
tinguish any words that he utters. 



MODULATION. REMEDIES. 99 

In pronouncing these examples, which I trust need 
not be further explained, some trifling diversities might 
doubtless be observed in different readers of equal taste. 
But if the proper sound is given to the emphatic words, 
all the rest must be spoken essentially as here described. 
ft follows that the most direct means of curing artificial 
tones, is to acquire a correct emphasis. But, — 

2. In order to this, another attainment seems indis- 
pensable, namely, some good degree of discrimination as 
to vocal tones and inflections. This has been more than 
once adverted to in the foregoing pages ; but it is intro- 
duced here as inseparably connected with a just modula- 
tion. That correct emphasis, which is the best remedy 
for perverted habits of voice, is not always a spontaneous 
attendant on good sense and emotion. Its efficacy is of- 
ten frustrated by the strength of those habits which it might 
overcome, if there were sufficient knowledge of the sub- 
ject to apply the remedy. 

.There is something of the ludicrous in the attempt to 
imitate unseemly tones in speaking ; and those who are 
unpractised in it, generally feel reluctant to make the at- 
tempt at first, especially in the presence of others. For 
the same reason they are reluctant to have their own faul- 
ty manner in reading a sentence imitated, or to repeat 
again and again their own attempts to correct it. And 
some who can imitate a sound immediately after hearing 
it from another voice, suppose this to be the only way in 
which it can be done. But let a thousand persons, who 
understand the English language, repeat the familiar ques- 
tion, " Do you expect to go, or stay ?" — And will not ev- 
ery one of the thousand give the same turn of voice on 



1 00 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 

the words in Italics ? Where is the difficulty then of 
placing such a mark on these turns of voice, that they 
may be transferred to any other word ? This simple prin- 
ciple suggested to Walker his notation of sounds for the 
eye ; and incomplete as it is, something of the kind is so 
necessary to the student of elocution, that, without it, the 
aid of a living teacher cannot supply the defect. And in 
most cases, nothing is wanting to derive advantage from 
such a theory but a little patience and perseverance in its 
application.* 



* A few years since, I desired a young gentleman to take the fol- 
lowing sentence ; " I tell you, though you, though all the worlds 
though an angel from heaven, should declare the truth of it, I could 
not believe it;" — and read it to me in four different ways, which I 
described to him in writing, without making with my voice any of 
the sounds which I wished him to represent. My directions were 
these ; 

1. Read it with the monotone. 

2. Without any slide on the emphatic words, raise them one 
note above the key tone of the sentence, and read the rest in the 
monotone. 

3. Give the emphatic words the rising slide through three or 
four notes above the key, and end with the common cadence. 

4. Give the same words the falling slide, with increase of force 
as you proceed ; beginning the slide, on you one note above the 
key, that on world two, and that on heaven three. — The young 
gentleman, without having acquired, so far as I knew, any uncom- 
mon skill in vocal inflections, at the appointed time repeated the 
passage according to my directions, and almost exactly in the man- 
ner I had intended. The last mode of reading is that which I des- 
cribed at page 62; and the other three modes I may leave without 
farther elucidation to those who have the curiosity to engage in such 
an exercise. The second mode, it will be seen, is one species of 
what is often called the conventicle tone ; and another sort of this 
cant, would be represented by reading all the words in monotone ex- 
cept the parts in the following specimen printed in Italic, which 
should be raised two notes above the key. " I tell you though you, 
though all the world, though an angel from heaven, should declare 
the truth of it, I could not believe it." Such an exercise might 
well seem trifling in a man of elevated views, were it net impor- 
tant to bring his voice under discipline, by analyzing its powers, and 
that for the purpose of correcting his own faults in modulation. 



MODULATION. REMEDIES. 101 

It was my intention to remark, at more length than 
my limits in this place will allow, on the benefit which a 
public speaker may derive from acquaintance with vocal 
music. The want of this does by no means imply a cor- 
respondent deficiency in elocution. There have been or- 
ators who had no skill in music. And constant observation 
shows that a man may be a fine singer, and yet be no orator. 
Vocal organs and skill, of the first order, he may possess, 
and yet have neither the strength nor furniture of intel- 
lect, nor the high moral sensibility, which eloquence de- 
mands. As a speaker, he may fail too in modulation of 
voice, so as not even to read well. But while all this 
is admitted, we must say of this good singer and bad read- 
er, what we cannot always say of another man, — he is 
utterly without excuse. With discriminating ear, and 
perfect command of his voice, why has he a bad modula- 
tion in delivery ? His talent is hid in a napkin ; — he is 
too slothful to use a gift of his Creator, which in posses- 
sion of another man, might be an invaluable treasure. Par- 
adox as it may seem, it is only the plain statement of a 
well known fact, to say, that many a man, while devoting 
ten years to studies preparatory to professional life, delib- 
erately looks forward to his main business, as one in which 
his success and usefulness must depend on his talent in 
speaking,' — yet takes no pains to speak well ! Perhaps 
of these ten years, he does not employ one entire week in 
all, to acquire this talent, without which all other acquisi- 
tions are, to his purposes, comparatively useless ! 

Without any enthusiastic estimate of the collateral ad- 
vantages which the student of oratory might derive from 
musical skill, it may be said that the same strength, dis- 
9* 



102 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 

tinctness, smoothness, and flexibility of voice, which mu- 
sic both requires and promotes, are directly subservient to 
the purposes of elocution. And at least so much practi- 
cal knowledge of music, as readily to mark with the ear 
and voice, the difference between high and low, strong 
and feeble notes, greatly facilitates that analysis of speak- 
ing tones, which enables one to understand his own faults, 
and to make such a sound, in a given case, as he wishes 
to make. 

I might add here, that I am not advancing any new 
theory on this subject. Quinctilian devotes a chapter to 
the connexion between eloquence and music ; and advi- 
ses the young orator to study this latter art, as an impor- 
tant auxiliary in the care and management of his voice. 
And a spirited French writer, speaking of bad tones in 
the pulpit, says, " I much wish that young preachers would 
not neglect any means of forming their voice and improv- 
ing their ear ; for which purpose, the knowledge and prac- 
tice of vocal music, would be very useful to them." 

There are indeed weighty reasons, not applicable to 
other men, why they who are devoted to the sacred of- 
fice should cultivate an acquaintance with this sacred 
fine art. It elevates and sanctifies the taste of a Christian 
scholar. It prepares the minister of the gospel to employ 
an influence in regulating the taste of others ; an influence 
that shall be salutary, and becoming his office, or at least, 
not pernicious, in regard to the style of music that is 
adapted to public devotion. Till Christian pastors be- 
come generally better qualified to exert such an influence 
it will not be strange if this department of public worship 
shall continue in the hands of authors, and teachers, and 



PITCH OF VOICE. 103 



performers, who will so conduct its solemn services as to 
extinguish rather than inspire devotional feeling. Besides, 
the minister who knows nothing of the science of adapta- 
tion, as applied to music and poetry, will often select 
hymns so unpoetical that they cannot possibly be sung 
with discrimination and spirit ; or perhaps a hymn, that is 
full of inspiration, he will read with so little feeling, that it 
will almost of course be sung in a manner equally inani- 
mate. 

Sect. 3.— Pitch of Voice. 

This is a relative modification of voice ; by which we 
mean that high or low note, which prevails in speaking, 
and which has a governing influence upon the whole scale 
of notes employed. Tn every man's voice, this governing 
note varies with circumstances, but it is sufficiently exact 
to consider it as threefold ; the upper pitch, used in call- 
ing to one at a distance ; the middle, used in conversa- 
tion : and the lower, used in cadence, or in a grave, em- 
phatic under key. Exertion of voice on the first, exposes 
it to break ; and on the last, renders articulation thick and 
difficult, and leaves no room for compass below the pitch. 
The middle key, or that which we spontaneously adopt in 
earnest conversation, allows the greatest variety and ener- 
gy in public speaking, though this will be raised a little by 
the excitement of addressing an assembly. To speak on 
a pitch much above that of animated conversation, fatigues 
and injures the lungs ; though this, of all mistakes, is the 
-one into which weak lungs are most likely to fall. The 
speaker then, by his own experiment, or, (if he wants the 



104 PITCH OP VOICE. 



requisite skill,) by the aid of some friend, should ascertain 
the middle key of his own voice, and make that the basis 
of his delivery. Whether this is high or low, compared 
with that of another man, is not essential, provided it be 
not in extreme. Among the first secular orators of Brit- 
ain, some have spoken on the grave, bass-key ; while 
Pitt's voice, it is said, was a full tenor, and Fox's a tre- 
ble. 

The voice that is on a bass-key, if clear and well ton- 
ed, has some advantages in point of dignity. But a high 
tone, uttered with the same effort of lungs, is more audi- 
ble than a low one. Without referring to other proofs 
of this, the fact just now mentioned is sufficient, that we 
spontaneously raise our key in calling to one at a dis- 
tance ; for the simple reason that we instinctively know 
he will be more likely to hear us in a high note than a 
low one. So universal is this instinct, that we may ob- 
serve it in very little children, and even in the call and 
response of the parent bird and her young, and in most 
brute animals that have voice. The same principle doubt- 
less explains another fact, recently alluded to, that feeble 
lungs are inclined to a high pitch ; this being the effort 
of weakness, to make up what it lacks in power, by eleva- 
tion of key; an effort which succeeds perfectly for a few 
words, but produces intolerable fatigue by being continu- 
ed. 

The influence of emotion on the voice, is also among 
the philosophical considerations pertaining to this subject. 
A man under strong intellectual excitement, walks with a 
firmer and quicker step than when he is cool ; and the 
same excitement which braces the muscles, and gives en- 



PITCH OF VOICE. 105 



ergy to the movements of the body, has a correspondent 
effect on the movements of the voice. Earnestness in 
common conversation assumes a higher note, as it pro- 
ceeds, though the person addressed is at no greater dis- 
tance than before. 

A practical corollary from these suggestions is, that 
the public speaker should avoid a high pitch, at the begin- 
ning of his discourse, lest he rise, with the increase of in- 
terest, to painful and unmanageable elevation. Through 
disregard of this caution, some preachers, of warm tem- 
perament, sacrifice all command of their voice, as they be- 
come animated, and rather scream than speak. Blair 
lays it down as a useful rule, in order to be well heard, 
— "To fix our -eye on some of the most distant persons 
in the assembly, and to consider ourselves as speaking to 
them." But to apply this rule to the outset of a discourse/ 
would probably lead nine out of ten, among unpractised 
speakers, to err by adopting too high a pitch. Walker, 
on the other hand, advises to commence, — " as though 
addressing the persons who are nearest to us." This 
might lead to an opposite extreme ; and the safest gener- 
al course perhaps, is to adapt the pitch to hearers at a 
medium distance. 

Hearers are apt to be impatient, if a speaker compels 
them to listen ; though they more readily tolerate this fault 
at the beginning, than in any other part of a discourse. 
The preacher is certainly without excuse who utters his 
text in so low a voice as not to be understood, and the 
special necessity for avoiding this, is probably a sufficient 
reason for the good old practice of naming the text twice. 
But for a few sentences of the exordium, where the sen-5 



106 QUANTITY. 



timent commonly requires composure and simplicity, it is 
better to be scarcely audible, than to shun this inconve- 
nience by running into vociferation. The proper means of 
avoiding both extremes, is to learn the distinction between 
force and elevation; and to acquire the power of swelling 
the voice on a low note. This introduces our next topic 
of consideration. 



Sect. 4. — Quantity. 

This term I use not in the restricted sense of gram- 
marians and prosodists, but as including both the fullness 
of tone, and the time, in which words and sentences are 
uttered. With this explanation I hope I may be permit- 
ted to use the term in a sense somewhat peculiar, without 
touching the endless discussion it has awakened in anoth- 
er department. 

In theory, perhaps every one can easily understand, 
that a sound may be either loud or soft, on the same note. 
The only difference, for example, betwixt the sound pro- 
duced by a heavy stroke and a gentle one, on the same 
bell, is in the quantity or momentum. This distinction 
as applied to music, is perfectly familiar to all acquainted 
with that art. As applied to elocution, however, it is not 
so easily made ; for it is a common thing for speakers to 
confound high sounds with loud, and low with soft. 
Hence we often hear it remarked of one that he speaks 
in a low voice, when the meaning is, a feeble one ; and 
perhaps if he were told that he is not loud enough, he 
would instantly raise his key, instead of merely increasing 
his quantity on the same note. But skill in modulation 



QUANTITY. 1 07 



requires, that these distinctions should be practically un- 
derstood. And if any one, who has given no attention to 
this point, thinks it too easy to demand attention, he may 
be better satisfied by a single experiment. Let him take 
this line of Shakspeare, 

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 

and read it first in a voice barely audible. Then let him 
read it again and again, on the same pitch, doubling his 
quantity or impulse of sound, at each repetition, and he 
will find that it requires great care and management to do 
this, without raising his voice to a higher note. 

As it is a prime requisite in a public speaker, that he 
be heard with ease and pleasure, the importance of his 
being able to swell his voice to a loud and full sound, with- 
out raising his pitch, must be apparent. As a general 
rule, that voice is loud enough, which perfectly fills the 
place where we speak ; or, in other words, which perfect- 
ly reaches the hearers, with a reserve of strength to en- 
force a passage, in which sentiment demands peculiar en- 
ergy. 

The inconvenience of a feeble voice in a public speaker 
is great. He will either fail to be heard at all, or will be 
heard with so much difficulty, that his auditors are sub- 
jected to the drudgery of a laborious listening to spell out 
his meaning.' 

Besides, there are circumstances, of no uncommon oc- 
currence, by which this inconvenience is specially aggra- 
vated. Among these may be mentioned the injudicious 
structure of buildings, the chief design of which is adap- 
tation to public speaking, such as legislative and judicial 



1 OS QUANTITY. 



halls, and Christian churches. The purposes of these 
buildings is sometimes nearly frustrated by immoderate 
size ; by extreme height of the ceiling ; and in churches 
particularly, by the multiplication of ill-formed arches, so 
constructed as to return a strong broken echo, — by the 
bad arrangement of galleries^ and the sounding-board, 
adjusted close to the speaker's head. 

Sometimes too, even the secular orator, and much of- 
tener the preacher, is called to speak in the open air ; or 
on the other extreme, to speak in a private apartment, so 
crowded as hardly to admit of free respiration. In such 
cases the common disadvantages of a feeble voice are 
much increased. 

Tf the inquiry be made, on what does strength of voice 
depend ? — I answer, 

First, it depends primarily on perfect organs of speech. 
As it is important for the professed speaker to know some- 
thing of these wonderful organs, with the preservation and 
use of which he is so much concerned, a brief enumera- 
tion of them may be proper here. 

Of these, the lungs have the first place. Mere vigor 
in this organ, is not of course attended with vocal power, 
but the latter cannot exist without the former. Other 
things being equal, he who has the best conformation of 
chest, and the most forcible action of lungs, will have the 
strongest voice. Fishes, and those insects that have no 
lungs, have no voice. 

Next is the trachea, that elastic tube, by which air pass- 
es to and from the lungs ; to the length of which in some 
birds, is ascribed the uncommon power of their voice. 
At the upper end of this, is the larynx, a cartillaginous box, 



QUANTITY. 109 



of the most delicate, vibratory power, so suspended by- 
muscles as to be easily elevated or depressed. The glottis 
is a small aperture, (at the top of the larynx,) by the di- 
latation or contraction of which, sound becomes more acute 
or more grave. To secure this aperture from injury, 
while food passes over it to the stomach, it is closed by a 
perfect valve, called the epiglottis. 

These are organs of sound, but not of speech, without 
the aid of others adapted to articulation, — namely, the 
tongue, the palate, the nostrils, the lips and teeth. My 
limits do not allow me to examine minutely the wonderful 
adaptation of these latter organs to their end, nor the mode 
of their action in forming articulate sounds. Such an ex- 
amination is unnecessary to one who has patience to make 
it himself, — and to others, it would be useless. 

Secondly, next to the importance of good organs, in 
giving strength of voice, is the proper exercise of these or- 
gans. The habit of speaking gave to the utterance of 
Garrick so wonderful an energy, that even his under key 
was distinctly audible to ten thousand people. In the same 
way the French missionary Bridaine brought his vocal 
powers to such strength, as to be easily heard by ten thou- 
sand persons, in the open air ; and twice this number of lis- 
tening auditors were sometimes addressed by Whitefield. 
The capacity of the lungs to bear the effort of speaking 
with a full impulse, depends much on their being accus- 
tomed to it. If I were to give directions to the student, 
as to the means of strengthening his voice by exercise, 
they would be such as these. 

(1) Whenever you use your voice on common occa- 
sions, use as much voice, as propriety will 'permit. The 
10 / 



110 QUANTITY. 



restriction here intended must be applied by common 
sense. 

(2) Read aloud, as a staled exercise. [See 3. p. 31.} 
This was a daily practice of the first statesmen and gener- 
als of Rome, even in the midst of campaigns, and public 
emergencies ; and it was by such a habit of reading and 
declamation in private, that the sons of these men were 
trained to a bold and commanding oratory. An erect, and 
commonly a standing posture, in such exercises, gives 
the fullest expansion to the chest and lungs. 

(3) In public speaking, avoid all improper efforts of 
the lungs. These arise chiefly from speaking on too high 
a key, a fault noticed above ; from extreme anxiety to 
accommodate delivery to hearers who are partially deaf; 
and from attempts to go through a long discourse, with 
such a degree of hoarseness as greatly augments the la- 
bor of the lungs. 

Thirdly, to preserve the lungs, and give strength to 
the vocal powers, it is necessary to avoid those habits by 
which public speakers are often injured ; — such as, 

(1) Bad attitudes of study, especially of writing, which 
cramp the chest and obstruct the vital functions. 

(2) Late preparations, by which the effort of public 
delivery immediately succeeds the exhaustion of intense 
and long continued study. 

(3) Full meals immediately before, and stimulating 
drinks immediately before or after speaking. 

(4) Inhaling cold air by conversation, and sudden 
change of temperature, when the lungs are heated by 
speaking. 

There is one general precaution, I may add, that 



QUANTITY. 1 1 1 



comprises and in some measure supersedes all others on 
this subject, namely, that strength of the vocal powers is 
to be promoted only by sustaining the general vigor of the 
constitution. The fatal prevalence of pulmonary disease, 
among literary men, especially ministers of the gospel, is 
commonly ascribed to their peculiar labors in public 
speaking. But with much more reason might it be as- 
cribed, chiefly, to their habits as men of study. The gen- 
eral intelligence and spirit of the age render high acquisi- 
tions and efforts indispensable, in order to distinguished use- 
fulness. . Years of preparatory study, devoted to intense 
reading and thought, often impair the tone of health, so 
that the superaddition of professional exertions soon fin- 
ishes the work of prostration. The young preacher, of 
ardent feelings, is eminently in danger of falling an early 
victim to the combined influence of these causes. Be- 
sides the weekly composition of sermons, a labor that has 
no parallel in any other profession, an accumulation of 
pastoral duties, new, and vast in importance, press him 
down from day to day, till he sinks, under this load of du- 
ties, into the grave ; or drags on the precarious existence 
of an invalid, with broken lungs, and emaciated frame. 

Now the case is summed up in a few words. The 
public speaker needs a powerful voice. The quantity of 
voice which he can employ, at least, can employ with safe- 
ty, depends on his strength of lungs ; and this again de- 
pends on a sound state of general health. If he neglects 
this, all other precautions will be useless.* 

* The foregoing suggestions on strength of voice, are only an out- 
line of the more particular and extended illustration given to this 
part of the subject in my Lectures on Delivery. 



112 QUANTITY. 



So much for this part of rhetorical modulation, in which 
a just quantity requires, that the impulse or momentum of 
voice be accommodated to sentiment, from the whisper 
of the fire-side, designed only for one hearer, to the thun- 
der of Bridaine, addressing his ten thousand. 

But besides strong and feeble tones, as belonging to 
quantity, it includes also a proper regard to time. This 
respects single words, clauses and sentences. No varie- 
ty of tones could produce the thrilling effects of music, if 
every note were a semibreve. So in elocution, if every 
word and syllable were uttered with the same length, the 
uniformity would be as intolerable as the worst monotony. 
This is illustrated in the line, which Pope framed purpose- 
ly, to represent a heavy movement ; — 

And ten low words oft creep in one dull line. 

The quantity demanded on each of these monosyllabic 
words, renders fluency in pronunciation quite impractica- 
ble. On the other hand, in a line of poetry, which has a 
regular return of accent on every second or third syllable, 
we find a metrical pronunciation, so spontaneously adopt- 
ed, as often to require much caution, not to sacrifice sense 
to harmony. Some, I am aware, maintain the theory that 
prose, in order to be well delivered, must be reduced, 
mentally at least, into feet. But he must be little less 
than a magician, who can break into the measure of pros- 
ody such a sentence as this ; — " The Trinity is a mystery 
which we unhesitatingly believe the truth of, and with hu- 
mility adore the depth of." 

The easy flow of delivery requires that particles, and 
subordinate syllables, should be touched as lightly as is 



QUANTITY. 113 



consistent with distinctness; while both sentiment and 
harmony demand, that the voice should throw an increase 
of quantity upon important words by resting on them, or 
by swell and protraction of sound, or both. Thus while 
pitch relates only to the variety of notes, as high or low, 
that of quantity is twofold ; namely, the variety of impulse, 
as loud or soft, and the variety of time, as quick or slow. 
The martial music of the drum has no change of notes, as 
to tune, being dependent wholly on quantity ; and there- 
fore has much less vivacity than the fife which combines 
the varieties of tune and impulse, as well as lime. The 
amount of all these remarks is, that he whose voice ha- 
bitually prolongs short syllables, and such words as and, 
from, to, the, &tc. must be a heavy speaker. 

But time in elocution, has a larger application than 
that which respects words and clauses, I mean that which 
respects the general rate of delivery. In this case, it is 
not practicable, as in music, nor perhaps desirable, to es- 
tablish a fixed standard, to which every reader or speak- 
er shall conform. The habits of different men may differ 
considerably in rate of utterance, without being chargea- 
ble with fault. But I refer rather to the difference which 
emotion will produce, in the rate of the same individual. 
I have said before, that those passions which quicken or 
retard a man's step in walking, will produce a similar ef- 
fect on his voice in speaking. Narration is equable and 
flowing ; vehemence, firm and accelerated ; anger and 
joy, rapid. Whereas dignity, authority, sublimity, awe, 
— assume deeper tones, and a slower movement. Ac- 
cordingly we sometimes hear a good reader or speaker, 
when there is some sudden turn of thought, check himself 
10* 



114 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 



in the full current of utterance, and give indescribable 
power to a sentence, or part of a sentence, by dropping 
his voice, and adopting a slow, full pronunciation. 

Sect. 5. — Rhetorical Pause. 

This has a very intimate relation to the subject of the 
foregoing section. As quantity in music, may consist 
partly of rests, so it is in elocution. A suspension of the 
voice, of proper length, and at proper intervals, is so in- 
dispensable, that, without this, sentiment cannot be expres- 
sed impressively, nor even intelligibly, by oral language. 
In delivery indeed, these suspensions of sound are ac- 
companied by other and surer marks of their signifi- 
cance, than mere time ; as the whole doctrine of vocal in- 
flections implies. They are combined with appropriate 
notes of the voice, which declare at the instant, whether 
the sense is to be continued in the same sentence ; — when 
the sentence is declarative, and when interrogative ; when 
it is finished ; and in general, whether it expresses sim- 
ple thought, or thought modified by emotion. According- 
ly, rhetorical punctuation has a few marks of its own, as 
the point of interrogation, and of admiration, the parenthe- 
sis, and the hyphen, all of which denote no grammatical 
relation, and have no established length. And there is 
no good reason, if such marks are used at all, why they 
should not be rendered more adequate to their purpose. 

The interrogative mark, for example, is used to de- 
note, not length of pause, but appropriate modification of 
voice, at the end of a question. But it happens that this 
one mark, as now used, represents two things, that are 



RHETORICAL PAUSE. 115 

exactly contrary to each other. When the child is taught, 
as he still is in many schools, to raise his voice in finish- 
ing a question, he finds it easy to do so in a case like this y 
— " Will you go to-day ?',-— " Are they Hebrews V But 
when he comes to the indirect question, not answered by 
yes, or no, his instinct rebels against the rule, and he spon- 
taneously reads with the falling slide, — " Why are you 
silent ? Why do you prevaricate V Now, in this latter 
case, if the usual mark of interrogation were inverted, (<;) 
when its office is to turn the voice downward, it would be 
discriminating and significant of its design. Nor would 
this discrimination require rhetorical skill in a printer. It 
would give him far less difficulty, than to learn the gram- 
matical use of the semicolon. The same remarks apply 
to the note of exclamation. 

As to the adjustment of pauses, to allow the speaker 
opportunity for drawing his breath, the difficulty seems to 
have been much overrated by writers and teachers. From 
my own experience and observation, I am inclined to 
think that no directions are needed on this point, and that 
the surest way to make even the youngest pupil breathe 
at the proper time, is to let him alone. 

For the sake of those who feel any apprehension on 
this subject, it may be proper to say, that the opportuni- 
ties for taking breath in the common current of delivery, 
are much more frequent than one might suppose, who has 
not attended to this matter. There is no grammatical re- 
lation of words so close, as utterly to refuse a pause be- 
tween them, except the article and noun, the preposition 
and noun, and the adjective and noun in their natural or- 
der. 



116 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 

Supposing the student to be already familiar with the 
common doctrine of punctuation, it is not my design to 
discuss it here ; nor even to dwell upon the distinction be- 
tween grammatical and rhetorical pauses. All that is 
necessary, is to remark distinctly, that visible punctuation 
cannot be regarded as a perfect guide to quantity, any 
more than to inflections. Often the voice must rest where 
no pause is allowed in grammar ; especially does this hap- 
pen, when the speaker would fix attention on a single 
word, that stands as immediate nominative to a verb. A 
few examples may make this evident. 

Industry is the guardian of innocence. 
Prosperity gains friends, adversity tries them. 

Some place the bliss in action, some in ease ; 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these. 

Mirth I consider as an act, cheerfulness as a habit of the mind. 
Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. 
Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that glitters for a moment; cheer- 
fulness keeps up a kind of day-light in the mind. 

Here the words in Italic take no visible pause after 
them, without violence to grammatical relation. But the 
ear demands a pause after each of these words, which no 
good reader will fail to observe. 

The same principle extends to the length of pauses. 
The comma, when it simply marks grammatical relation, 
is very short, as " He took with him Peter, and James, 
and John, his disciples." But when the comma is used 
in language of emotion, though it is the same pause to the 
eye, it may suspend the voice much longer than in the 



RHETORICAL PAUSE. 117 

former case ; as in the solemn and deliberate call to at- 
tention ; — " Men, brethren, and fathers, hearken."* 

This leads me to the chief point, which' I had in view 
under this head, the emphatic pause. Garrick employed 
this on the stage, and Whitefield in the pulpit, with 
great effect. It occurs sometimes before, but commonly- 
after a striking thought is uttered, which the speaker thus 
presents to the hearers, as worthy of special attention, and 
which he seems confidently to expect, will command as- 
sent, and be fixed in the memory, by a moment of unin- 
terrupted reflection. More commonly such a thought as 
admits the emphatic pause, drops the voice to a grave 
under-key, in the manner described at the close of the 
last article. Sometimes it breaks out in the figure of in- 
terrogation, with a higher note, and the eye fixed on some 
single hearer. To produce its proper effect, it must 
spring from such reality of feeling as defies all cold imita- 
tion ; and this feeling never fails to produce, while the 
voice is suspended on the emphatic pause, a correspondent 
significance of expression in the countenance. 

There is still another pause, so important in delivery, 
as to deserve a brief notice ; I mean that with which a 



* The rhetorical pause is as appropriate in music as in elocution. 
In this respect a skilful composer always conforms to sentiment, in 
a set piece. In metrical psalmody, though this adaptation cannot 
be made by the writer of the tune, it ought to be made in some 
good degree, by the performers. Instead of a tame subserviency 
to arbitrary quantity, they may often, with powerful effect, insert 
or omit a pause, as sentiment demands. I have scarcely ever felt 
the influence of music more, than in one or two cases where the 
stanzas, being highly rhetorical, were divided only by a comma, 
and the choir spontaneously rushed over the musical pause at the 
end of the tune, and began it anew, from the impulse of emotion, 
See example, Watts, Book I. Hymn 3, 6 and 7—8 and 9 stanzas. 



118 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 



good speaker marks the close of a paragraph, or division 
of a discourse. The attempt to keep up an assembly to 
one pitch of interest, and that by one unremitted strain of 
address, is a great mistake, though a very common one, 
as it respects both the composition and the delivery of a 
discourse. Tt results from principles with which every 
public speaker ought to be acquainted, that high excite- 
ment cannot be sustained for a long time. He who has 
skill enough to kindle in his hearers, the same glow which 
animates himself, while he exhibits some vivid argument 
or illustration, will suffer them to relax, when he has fin- 
ished that topic; and will enter on a new one, with a more 
familiar tone of voice, and after such a pause, as prepares 
them to accompany him with renewed satisfaction. 

It may be remarked in passing, that when the \ T oice 
has, outrun itself, and reached too high a pitch, one of 
these paragraph-rests affords the best opportunity to re- 
sume the proper key. 



24] Sect. 6. — Compass of voice. 

It may be thought that what has been said already* 
concerning high and low notes, is sufficient, on this part of 
modulation. My remarks on pitch, however, related 
chiefly to the predominant note which one employs in a 
given case ; whereas I now refer to the range of notes, 
above and below this governing or natural key, which are 
required by a spirited and diversified delivery. 

Sometimes from inveterate habit, and sometimes from 
incapacity of the organs, the voice has a strong, clear bot- 



COMPASS OF VOICE. 119 

torn, without any compass upwards. In other cases, it 
has a good top, but no compass below its key. Extreme 
instances to the contrary there may be, but commonly, I 
have no doubt that when a speaker uses only a note or 
two, above and below the key, it arises from habit, and not 
from organic defect. Few indeed have, or could by any 
means acquire, the versatility of vocal power, by which 
Whitefield could imitate the tones of the female or the in- 
fant voice, at one time, and at another, strike his hearers 
with awe, by the thundering note of his under key. Nor 
is this power essential to an interesting delivery. On the 
other hand, there are {ew, if any, who could not, by prop- 
er pains in cultivating the voice, give it all the compass 
which is requisite to grave and dignified oratory. 

As I cannot dwell on this point, it may be useful to 
say briefly, that when the voice of the young speaker is 
found to be wanting in compass, I would advise him, in 
the first place, to try an experiment, similar to that which 
was suggested, p. 107, for increasing strength or loudness 
of sound, without change of key. Suppose he takes the 
same line ; 

O,you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 

and reads it first on the lowest note, on which he can ar- 
ticulate. Then let him repeat it a note higher, and so on, 
till he reaches the highest note of his voice. His com- 
pass being ascertained, by such an experiment, on a few 
words, he may then practise reading passages of some 
length, on that part of his voice which he especially wish- 
es to improve ; taking care, in this more protracted exer- 
cise, not to pitch on the extreme note of his voice, either 



120 TRANSITION. 



way, so far as to preclude some variety above or below, 
to correspond with natural delivery. 

In the second place, I would advise him to read pas- 
sages where the sentiment and style are specially adapted 
to the purpose he has in view. If he wishes to cultivate 
the bottom of his voice, selections from narrative or didac- 
tic composition may be made, which will allow him to be- 
gin a new sentence, in a note nearly as low, as that in which 
he finished the preceding. Or he may take passages of 
poetry, in which the simile occurs, a figure that generally 
requires a low and equable movement of voice. 

If he wishes to increase his compass on the higher 
notes, let him choose passages in which spirited emotion 
prevails ; especially such as have a succession of interrog- 
ative sentences. These will incline the voice, spontane- 
ously, to adopt those elevated tones on which he wishes to 
cultivate its strength. Instead of giving examples here, to 
illustrate these principles, I refer the reader to Exercises, 
[24] where a few selections are made for this purpose. 



25] Sect. 7. — Transition. 

By this I mean those sudden changes of voice which 
often occur in delivery. This article, and those which fol- 
low upon modulation, are chiefly intended to combine and 
apply the principles of the preceding sections. The 
whole object is, to elucidate that one, standing law of de- 
livery, that vocal tones should correspond, in variety, with 
sentiment ; in contradistinction from monotony, and from 
that variety which is either accidental or mechanical. In 






TRANSITION. 121 



this spontaneous coincidence, by which the voice changes 
its elevation, rate, strength, &,c. in conformity with emo- 
tion, consists that excellence which is universally felt and 
admired, in the manner of a good speaker. 

To designate these changes, besides the rhetorical 
marks already employed to denote inflections, it will be 
necessary to adopt several new ones ; and the following 
may answer the purpose ; signifying that the voice is to 
be modified, in reading what follows the marks respec- 
tively thus : — 

(°)high. (J low. 

(°°) high and loud. ( 00 ) low and loud. 

( ••) slow. ( || ) rhetorical pause. 

(_) plaintive. 

In respect to the five first, when one of them occurs, 
it must be left to the reader's taste to determine how far 
its influence extends in what follows. In respect to this 
mark ( •• ) it may be used to signify a considerable pro- 
traction of sound on that syllable, which precedes it, and 
then it will be inserted in the course of the line, without 
brackets. 

EXAMPLES. 

Heaven and earth will witness, 



If Rome •• must •• fall •• that we are innocent. 

— Thus these two, 

Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
The happier Eden, shall enjoy 



-while I to hell •• am thrust. 



When the same mark is designed to signify that a pas- 
sage is to be uttered with a slow rate, it will be inserted 
thus ( •• ) where that passage begins, — the extent of its in- 
fluence being left to the readers taste ; or it may be com- 
11 



122 TRANSITION. 



bined with another mark, thus, ( y )< which would signify 
low and slow. 

I beg leave to add, that as the utility of this notation 
may be doubted by some, and as I am not sanguine re- 
specting it myself, it is suggested only as an experiment, 
on a most difficult branch of elocution. If applied with 
judgment, it. may be useful ; and it will at least be harm- 
less to those who choose to pass it by.* 

I proceed now to explain myself more fully on the 
subject of vocal transition, admonishing the reader, that, 
in the examples, and in the Exercises, a word in Italic has 
the common emphasis, while small capitals are occasion- 
ally used to denote a still more intensive stress. 

Any one who has a good command of his voice, can 
use it with a higher or lower, a stronger or feebler note, 
at pleasure. This distinction is perfectly made, (as I 
have said before,) even by a child, in speaking to one who 
is near, and to one who is distant. In rhetorical reading, 
when we pass from ^simple narrative to direct address, 
especially when the address is to distant persons, a cor- 
respondent transition of voice is demanded. Many ex- 
amples of this sort may be found in the Paradise Lost, 
from which the following are selected : 



-The cherubim, 



Forth issuing at the accustom'd hour, stood arm'd 
To their night watches, in warlike parade, 
When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake : 
( 00 / ) Uzziel ! || half these draw off, and coast the south, 

With strictest watch ; — these other, || wheel the north 
Our circuit meets full west. 



* Since the first edition was published, I have become satisfied that no part of 
(he book is more adapted to be useful than this. 



TRANSITION. 123 



Every reader of taste will perceive, that the three last 
lines, in this case, must be spoken in a much bolder and 
higher voice than the preceding. 

Another fine example may be seen in the sublime 
description of Satan, which ends with a speech to his as- 
sociates, full of authority and reprehension. It is so 
long, that I shall give only parts of it, sufficient to show 
the transition. 

( •• ) He scarce had ceas'd, when the superior fiend 

Was moving tow'rd the shore ; his pond'rous shield, 
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 
Behind him cast ; the hroad circumference 
Hung on his shoulders like the moon. 



-on the beach 



Of that inflamed sea he stood, || and call'd 

His legions, angel forms ; 

He call'd so loud that all the hollow deep 

Of hell •• resounded. (°°) Princes, — Potentates, 

Wa'rriors ! || the flower of heaven, once yours, now lost ■• 

If such astonishment as this can seize 

Eternal spirits. 

Here again, where the thought changes, from descrip- 
tion to vehement address, to continue the voice in the 
simple tones of narrative, would be intolerably tame. It 
should rise to a higher and firmer utterance, on the pas- 
sage beginning with, " Princes, — Potentates" he. 

In these cases, the change required consists chiefly in 
key and quantity. But there are other cases, in which 
these may be included, while the change consists also in 
the qualities of the voice. 



124 TRANSITION. 



It was remarked [10] p. 54, that tender emotions, 
such as pity and grief, incline the voice to gentle tones, 
and the rising slide; while emotions of joy, sublimity, au- 
thority, &lc. conform the tones to their own character res- 
pectively. It is where this difference of emotion occurs 
in the same connexion, that the change T have mentioned 
in the quality of voice, is demanded, analogous to the 
difference between plaintive and spirited expression, or 
piano and forte, in music. To illustrate this I select two 
stanzas from a hymn of Watts, and two from a psalm ; 
one being pathetic and reverential, the other animated and 
lively. These stanzas I arrange alternately, so as to ex- 
hibit the alternation of voice required by sentiment.* 

(°) Alas ! and did my Savior bleed ? 
And did my Sovereign die ? 
Would he devote that sacred h6ad, 
For such a worm as 'I ? 

(°°) Jdy to the world ! — the Ldrd is come ! 
Let earth receive her King ; 
Let every heart prepare him room, 
And heav'n and nature sing. 

(°) Was it for crimes that J had done, 
He groan'd upon the tree ? 
Ama •• zing pity ! grace unknown ! 
And love |( beyond degree ! 

(°°) Joy to the earth ! the Savior reigns ! 
Let men their songs employ ; 
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, 
Repeat the sounding joy. 

* In the first and third, the voice should be plaintive and soft, as 
well as high. 



EXPRESSION. 125 



In the following example, we see Satan lamenting his 
loss of heaven, and then in the dignity of a fell despair, 
invoking the infernal world. In reading this, w 7 hen the 
apostrophe changes, the voice should drop from the tones 
of lamentation, which are high and soft, to those which 
are deep and strong, on the words, " Hail, horrors," he. 

(°) Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, 
Said then the lost archangel, this the seat, 
That we must change for heav'n ? This mournful gloom|| 
For that celestial light ? 

Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy forever dwells. ( 00 ) Hail, horrors ! huh., 
Infernal world ! And thou, --profoundest hell, •• 
Receive thy new possessor ! one who brings 
A mind, not to be changed by pl&ce or time. 



26] Sect. 8. — Expression. 

This term I use, in rather a limited sense, to denote 
the proper influence of reverential and pathetic sentiment 
on the voice. A partial illustration of this has been given 
in the foregoing section, but its importance calls for some 
additional remarks. 

There is a modification of voice, which accompanies 
awakened sensibility of soul, that is more easily felt than 
described ; and this constitutes the unction of delivery. 
Without this, thoughts that should impress, attract, or 
soothe the mind, often become repulsive. I have heard 
the language of our Lord, at the institution, of the sacra- 
mental supper, read with just those falling slides on a high 
11* 



126 EXPRESSION. 



note, which belong to the careless, colloquial tones of 
familiar conversation, thus ; " Take, eat ; — this is my 
body." Even the Lord's prayer, I have sometimes heard 
read with the same irreverent familiarity of manner. This 
offence against propriety, becomes still more violent, when 
the sentiment is not only solemn but pathetic, requiring 
that correspondent quality of voice, to which I have re- 
peatedly alluded. 

Should I attempt fully to explain the principles on 
which this pathetic quality of the voice "depends, it would 
lead us into a somewhat extended view of the philosophy 
of emotion, as connected with modulation of speaking 
tones. A few remarks, however, must suffice. 

The fact cannot have escaped common observation, 
that sorrow, and its kindred passions, when carried to a 
high pitch, suspend the voice entirely. In a lower de- 
gree, they give it a slender and tremulous utterance. 
Thus Aaron, when informed that his two sons were smit- 
ten dead, by a stroke of divine vengeance, " held his 
peace." The emotions of his heart were too deep to find 
utterance in words. The highest passion of this sort, is 
expressed by silence ; and when so far moderated, as to 
admit of words, it speaks only in abrupt fragments of sen- 
tences. Hence it is that all artificial imitation, in this 
case, is commonly so unlike the reality. It leads to met- 
aphors, to amplification and embellishment, in language, 
and to either vociferation or whining in utterance. Where- 
as the real passion intended to be imitated, if it speaks at 
all, speaks without ornament, in few words, and in tones that 
are a perfect contrast to those of declamation. This dis- 
tinction arises from those laws of the human mind, by 



EXPRESSION. 127 



which internal emotion is connected with its external 
signs. A groan or a shriek is instantly understood, as a 
language extorted by distress, a language which no art can 
counterfeit, and which conveys a meaning that words are 
utterly inadequate to express. The heart, that is burst- 
ing with grief, feels the sympathy that speaks in a silent 
grasp of the hand, in tears, or in gentle tones of voice ; 
while it is shocked at the cold commiseration that utters 
itself in many words, firmly and formally pronounced. 

If these views are correct, passion has its own appro- 
priate language ; and this, so far as the voice is concern- 
ed, (for I cannot here consider looks and gesture,) is what 
I mean by expression. That this may be cultivated by 
the efforts of art, to some extent, is evident from the skill 
which actors have sometimes attained, in dramatic exhi- 
bition ; a skill to which one of the fraternity alluded, in 
his remark to a dignitary of the church, the cutting sever- 
ity of which consists in the truth it contains ; " We speak 
of fictions as if they were realities ; you speak of realities 
as if they were fictions." But the dignity of real elo- 
quence, and peculiarly of sacred eloquence, disclaims all 
artifice ; and the sensibility which would be requisite to 
render imitation successful, would at the same time ren- 
der it needless ; for why should one aim to counterfeit 
that, of which he possesses the reality ? 

The fact however, is, that the indescribable power 
communicated to the voice by a delicate sensibility, espe- 
cially a Christian sensibility, it is quite beyond the reach 
of art to imitate. It depends on the vivid excitement of 
real feeling; and, in Christian oratory, implies that ex- 
pansion and elevation of the soul, which arise only from 



128 REPRESENTATION. 



a just feeling of religious truth. The man whose tempera- 
ment is so phlegmatic, that he cannot kindle with emotion 3 
at least with such degree of emotion as will shew itself in 
his countenance and voice, may be useful in some depart- 
ments of learning, but the decision of his Creator is stamp- 
ed upon him, that he was not made for a public speak- 



27] Sect. 9. — Representation. 

This takes place when one voice personates two in- 
dividuals or more. It seems necessary to dwell a little 
on this branch of modulation, which has scarcely been 
noticed by writers on oratory. Every one must have ob- 
served how much more interesting is an exhibition of men, 
as living agents, than of things in the abstract. Now 
when the orator introduces another man as speaking, he 
either informs us what that man said, in the third person ; 
or presents him to us as spoken to, in the second person, 
and as speaking himself, in the first. So far as the prin- 
ciples of style are concerned, the difference between the 
two methods, in point of vivacity, is easily explained. 
The former is mere description, the latter is representation. 
A cold narrator would have said that Verres was guilty of 
flagrant cruelty, in scourging a man who declared himself 
to be a Roman citizen. But Cicero shows us the man 



* In regard to the preacher, these obstacles from mental tem- 
perament, are rendered more certainly fatal to success in delivery, 
if combined with a system of belief, "or a state of religious feeling, 
so phlegmatic as to suppress, rather than awaken, his spiritual en- 
ergies. 



REPRESENTATION. 129 

writhing under the lash of the bloody Pretor, and exclaim- 
ing ; " I am a Roman citizen." 

A thousand examples are at hand, to show the differ- 
ence between telling us what was said by another man, 
and introducing that man to speak to us himself. " The 
wise men said that they had seen his star in the east, and 
had come to worship him," — is narrative. " We have 
seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him," is 
representation. " Jesus told Peter that he should deny 
him thrice," is narrative. " Jesus said, Peter, thou shalt 
deny me thrice," is representation. The difference be- 
tween these two modes of communication it is the prov- 
ince of taste to feel, but of criticism to explain. Let us 
then analyze a simple thought, as expressed in these two 
forms; "Jesus inquired of Simon, the son of Jonas, 
whether he loved him." " Jesus said^ Simon, Son of Jo- 
nas, lovest thou me ?" The difference in point of vivaci- 
ty is instantly perceived, but in what does this difference 
consist ? In two things. The first manner throws verbs 
into past time, and pronouns into the third person, pro- 
ducing, in the latter especially, an indefiniteness of gram- 
matical relation, which is unfriendly to the clearness and 
vivacity of language. At the same time the energy aris- 
ing from the vocative case, from the figure of tense, and 
of interrogation, is sacrificed. As a principle of composi- 
tion, though commonly overlooked, this goes far to ex- 
plain the difference between the tame and the vivid in 
style. 

But the same difference is still more striking when 
analyzed by the principles of delivery. Transform an an-r 
imated question into a mere statement of the fact, that 



130 REPRESENTATION. 



such a question was asked, and all the intonations of voice 
are changed, so that you do not seem to hear a real per- 
son, speaking, but are only told that he did speak. This 
change in expression of voice will be apparent in repeat- 
ing the two forms of the example last quoted. Doubtless 
most readers of the New Testament have felt the spirit 
with which the Evangelist relates an interview between 
the Jewish priests, and John the Baptist. Omitting the 
few clauses of narrative, it is a dialogue, thus ; 

Priests ; — Who art thou ? 

John ; — I am not the Christ. 

Priests ; — What then? art thou Elias? 

John ; — I am not. 

Priests ; — Art thou that prophet ? 

John ; — No. 

Priests ; — Who art thou ? — that we may give an an- 
swer to them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? 

John ; — I am the voice of one crying in the wilder- 
ness, — Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the 
prophet Esaias. 

Priests; — Why bapfszest thou then, if thou be not 
that Chrfst, nor Elias, neither that prophet ? 

John ; — I baptize with water ; but there standeth one 
among you, whom ye know not; Sic. The reader will 
perceive by turning to the passage in the Evangelist John, 
1: 19,-r-and repeating it as it stands there, that, not only 
must the same voice ask the questions, with a higher note, 
and give the answers, with a lower ; but also must distin- 
guish the intermingled clauses of narrative, from the dia- 
logue. 

Now all these thoughts might be intelligibly expressed 






REPRESENTATION. 131 



in the language of description, by the very common pro- 
cess of changing the pronouns into the third person, and 
the verbs into the third person of the past tense, and, of 
course, transforming all the interlocutory tones, into those 
of narrative. But where would be the variety and spirit 
of the passage ? It would scarcely retain even a dull re- 
semblance of its present form. 

It is by just this sort of transformation, that reporters 
of debates in legislative bodies, so often contrive to divest 
a speech of half its interest, if they do not grossly obscure 
its meaning. As I wish to be understood, I will give a 
specimen of this kind, where the orator is described as 
proceeding thus; "He said that the remarks of the hon- 
orable member, whether so intended by him or not, were 
of a very injurious character. If not aimed at him per- 
sonally, they were adapted to cast suspicion, at least, on 
his motives. And he asked if any gentleman, in his mo- 
ments of cool reflection, would blame him, if he stood 
forth, the guardian of his own reputation." 

Now let the narrator keep in his own province, and 
merely state the thing as it was, — and the difference is 
seen at once. The orator speaks in the first person ; " I 
say that the remarks of the honorable member, whether 
so intended by him or not, are of a very injurious charac- 
ter. If not aimed at me, personally, they are adapted to 
cast suspicion, at least, on my motives. And I ask, will 
any gentleman, in his moments of cool reflection, blame 
me, if I stand forth, the guardian of my own reputation ?" 
-Here, if any one will analyze the language, in both cases, 
he will see that, in the former, verbs are accommodated 
to past time, and pronouns are all thrown into the third 



132 REPRESENTATION. 



person, though belonging to different antecedents ; and 
thus the reporter's pen spreads ambiguity and weakness 
over a thought, as the torpedo benumbs what it touches. 

So in sacred oratory, it is a common thing, that a pas- 
sage from the Bible, which would speak to the heart, with 
its own proper authority and energy, if the preacher had 
simply cited it as the word of God ; is transmuted into 
comparative insignificance, by the process of quotation. 

The reader will perceive, that the principle which I 
here aim to illustrate, though it belongs primarily to the 
philosophy of style, has a very extensive influence over 
every department of delivery. 

The man who feels the inspiration of true eloquence, 
will find tome of his happiest resources in what I here call 
representation. He can break through the trammels of a 
tame, inanimate address. He can ask questions, and an- 
swer them ; can personate an accuser and a respondent; 
can suppose himself accused or interrogated, and give his 
replies. He can call up the absent or the dead, and 
make them speak through his lips. The skill of represent- 
ing two or more persons, by appropriate management of 
language and voice, may properly be called rhetorical dia- 
logue. It was thus that the great orators of antiquity, and 
thus that Chrysostom and Massillon held their hearers in 
captivity. 

I will only add, that when a writer, in the act of com- 
position, finds himself perplexed with clashing pronouns of 
the third person ; — or when he is at a loss, whether part 
or the whole of a sentence, should or should not be dis- 
tinguished with a mark of interrogation, he should suspect 
in himself some aberration from the true principles of 
style. 



READING OF POETRY. 133 

Sect. 10. — The reading of Poetry. 
Before we dismiss the general subject of this chapter, 
some remarks may be expected on proper management 
of the voice in the reading of verse. These remarks, 
however, must necessarily be so brief as to give only a 
few leading suggestions on this difficult branch of elocu- 
tion. I say difficult, because on the one hand, the genius 
of verse requires that it be pronounced with a fuller swell 
of the open vowels, and in a manner more melodious and 
flowing than prose. As the peculiar charms of poetry 
consist very much in delicacy of sentiment, and beauty 
of language, it were absurd to read it without regard to 
these characteristics. But on the other hand, to preserve 
the metrical flow of versification, and yet not impair the 
sense, is no easy attainment. The following general prin- 
ciples may be of use to the student. 

1 . In proportion as the sentiment of a passage is ele- 
vated, inspiring emotions of dignity or reverence, the voice 
has less variety of inflection, and is more inclined to the 
monotone. The grand and sublime in description, and in 
poetic simile ; the language of adoration, and of supplica- 
tion, are universally distinguished, in the above respect, 
from familiar discourse. 

2. When the sentiment of a passage is delicate and 
gentle, especially when it is plaintive, it inclines the voice 
to the rising inflection ; and for this reason, poetry ofteher 
requires the rising inflection than prose : yet, 

3. The rights of emphasis must be respected in po- 
etry. When the language of a passage is strong and dis- 
criminating, or familiarly descriptive, or colloquial, — the 

same modifications of voice are required as in prose. 
12 



134 READING OF POETRY. 

The emphatic stress and inflection, that must be intensive, 
in prose, to express a thought forcibly, are equally neces- 
sary in poetry. 

EXAMPLES. 

Say first, of God above, or man below, 

What can we reason, but from what we know f 

Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, 
And drawn, supports, — upheld by God or thle? 

Who thus define it, say they more or less 
Than this, — that happiness is happiness. 

Order is heaven's first law ; and this confest, 
Some are, and must be greater than the rest; 
More rich, more wise ; but who infers from hence, 
That such are happier, — shocks all common sense. 

But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed : 
What then? — is the reward of virtue Ire" ad? 

4. The metrical accent of poetry is subordinate 
sense, and to established usage in pronunciation. It is a 
general rule, that though the poet has violated this prin- 
ciple in arranging the syllables of his feet, still it should 
not be violated by the reader. That is a childish conform- 
ity to poetic measure, which we sometimes hear, as 
marked in the following examples. 

False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 
Its gaudy colors spreads on every place. 

Again ; 

Their praise is still, the style is excelZen* ; 
The sense, they humbly take upon content. 

And worse still ; 

My soul ascends above the sky, 
And triumphs in her liberty. 



READING OF POETRY. 135 

In most instances of this sort, where the metrical ac- 
cent would do violence to every ear of any refinement, 
the reader should not attempt to hide the fault of the po- 
et, by committing a greater one himself. There are 
some cases, however, in which the best way of obviating 
the difficulty, is to give both the metrical and the custom- 
ary accent ; or at least to do this so far, that neither shall 
be very conspicuous ; thus — 

Our supreme foe, in time may much relent. 
Of thrones and mighty seraphim prdstrdte — 
Encamp their legions, or with dbscure wing — 

I think of only two exceptions to these remarks on ac- 
cent. The first occurs where a distinguished poet has 
purposely violated harmony, to make the harshness of his 
line correspond with that of the thought. This Milton 
has effectually done, in the following example, by making 
the customary accent supersede the metrical. 



-On a sudden open fly, 



With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
The infernal doors ; and on their hinges grate, 
Harsh thunder. 

The other exception occurs, where a poet of the 
same order, without any apparent reason, has so derang- 
ed the customary accent, that, to restore it in reading, 
would be a violation of euphony not to be endured ; 
thus — 

And as is due 

With glory attributed to the high 
Creator ? - 

Only to shine, yet scarce to cdntribute - 
Each orb a glimpse of light. 



136 



READING OF POETRY. 



5. The pauses of verse should be so managed, if pos- 
sible, as most fully to exhibit the sense, without sacrificing 
the harmony of the composition. No good reader can 
fail to observe the casural pause, occurring after the 
fourth syllable, in these flowing lines ; 

Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees. 

Yet no good reader would introduce the same pause, 
from regard to melody, where the sense utterly forbids it, 
as in this line ; 

I sit, with sad civility I read. 

While the ear then, in our heroic measure, commonly 
expects the cassura after the fourth syllable, it often de- 
mands its postponement to the sixth or seventh, and some- 
times rejects it altogether. 

But there is another poetical pause, namely, that 
which occurs at the end of the line, concerning which 
there has been more diversity of opinion and practice 
among respectable authors. The most competent judges 
have, indeed, very generally concurred in saying, that this 
pause should be observed, even in blank verse, except on 
the stage. Lowth, Johnson, Garrick, Kaimes, Blair, and 
Sheridan, were all of this opinion. Others, particularly 
Walker, have questioned the propriety of pausing at the 
end of the line, in blank verse, except where the same 
pause would be proper in prose. 

Now it seems clear to me that, (if there is any tolera- 
ble harmony in the measure,) even when the sense of one 
line runs closely into the next, the reader may, generally, 
mark the end of the line by a proper protraction and sus- 



READING OF POETRY. 137 

pension of voice, on the closing syllable, — as in the fol- 
lowing notation ; 

> Thus with the year •■ 



Seasons return, but not to me returns •• 

Day |j or the sweet approach of even or morn. 

And over them triumphant Death his dart •• 
Shook || but delayed to strike. 



-All air seemed then 



Conflicting fire ; long time in even scah 
The battle hung. 



-For now the thought 



Both of lost happiness and lasting pain •• 
Torments him. 

In none of these cases perhaps, would a printer insert 
a pause at the end of the line ; and yet there appears to 
be no difficulty in making one with the voice, by a mode- 
rate swell and protraction of sound. But there certainly 
are examples, and those not a few, in which the writers 
of blank verse have so amalgamated their lines by prosaic 
arrangement of pauses, that all attempts of the reader to 
distinguish these lines would be useless. Here, again, 
as was said of misplaced accent, the reader must look to 
the sense, and let the poet be responsible for the want of 
musical versification. 

I add, in this place, a judicious remark of Walker, 
to whom, by the way, I am indebted for several of the fore- 
going illustrations. " The affectation," says he, " which 
most writers of blank verse have of extending the sense 
beyond the line, is followed by a similar affectation in the 
printer, who will often omit a pause at the end of a line 
12* 



138 READING OF POETRY. 

in verse, when he would have inserted one in prose ; and 
this affectation is still carried farther by the reader, who 
will run the sense of one line into another, where there is 
the least opportunity for doing it, in order to show that he 
is too sagacious to suppose that there is any conclusion in 
the sense, because the line concludes." 

In regard to rhyme, there can be no doubt that it 
should be so read, as to make the end of the line quite 
perceptible to the ear : otherwise the correspondent sound 
of the final syllables, in which rhyme consists, would be 
entirely lost. It is a strange species of trifling, therefore, 
which we sometimes witness in a man, who takes the 
trouble to adjust his rhymes, in a poetic composition, and 
then in reading or speaking, slurs them over with a pre- 
posterous hurry, and confounds them by an undiscriminat- 
ing utterance, so that they are necessarily unperceived by 
the hearers. 

6. I entirely concur with Walker in his remark that 
the vowels e and o, when apostrophized, in poetry, should 
be preserved in pronunciation. But they should be spok- 
en in a manner so slight and accelerated, as easily to coa- 
lesce with the following syllable. An example or two of 
this will require no explanation. 

But of the two, less dang'rous is the offence. 
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 



It was my intention, for the benefit of young preach- 
ers, to remark at some length, in this section, on the read- 
ing of Hymns in the pulpit. But as the foregoing obser- 



READING OF POETRY. 1 39 

vations apply generally, to the reading of psalms and 
hymns, as well as other poetry; it may be sufficient to 
give a few suggestions, on points which pertain especially 
to this interesting, and often very defective branch of 
Christian elocution. 

The chief object of sacred poetry as connected with 
sacred music, is to inspire devotional feeling. For this 
purpose it has been, from the earliest ages, incorporated 
into the public worship of God, by his own appointment. 
Poetry written for the silent perusal of individuals, or 
adapted only to the instruction or amusement of the so- 
cial circle, though read unskilfully, suffers only a diminu- 
tion of interest, respecting a subject perhaps of momenta- 
ry concern. But poetry written expressly to aid the pub- 
lic devotions of Christians, and designed to be repeated, 
again and again, in their solemn assemblies, cannot be 
read unskilfully, without a -serious loss of interest in the 
hearers respecting subjects in which their duty and hap- 
piness are involved. 

That discrimination of taste and sensibility, which feels 
the spirit of poetry, doubtless may be very defective in 
some men, even of elevated piety. Sometimes from this 
want of discrimination, and oftener still from inattention to 
the subject, arise the faults which I shall briefly notice. 

Perhaps the most comprehensive of these faults con- 
sists in the injudicious selection of the psalm or hymn to 
be read. Not a few of these compositions, in the best 
books that have been written or compiled, are merely nar- 
rative or didactic in subject, and destitute of all poetic 
spirit in execution. Even those of the seraphic Watts, 
surpassing, as they certainly do, all others in their general 



140 READING OP POETRY. 

merits, contain many passages, that are quite tolerable as 
to metre and rhyme, but destitute of the inspiration and 
soul of real poetry. There is besides, a very injurious 
tendency to fluctuation in our psalmody, arising from a 
fastidious demand for novelty, and a disposition in differ- 
ent Christian sects to have each its own psalm, as well as 
doctrine. Hence the psalms of David, as adapted by 
Watts to Christian worship, are in a great degree supplant- 
ed by vatious collections of hymns ; and to accommodate 
a vagrant taste in music, many of these are hymns writ- 
ten in irregular and rapid measures, little suited to pro- 
mote the solemnity of devotional feeling. Many others, I 
know, are distinguished for pathos, and are eminently fit- 
ted to awaken Christian fervor, especially on account of 
their appropriateness to the occasions and the spirit of 
the age. At the same time, if I may be excused for 
turning aside so much as to introduce this topic, I would 
say, that preachers have injured the interests of psalmody 
by their general preference of hymns, in public worship, 
to the psalms of the inspired poet, in the version of Watts. 
The strain of humble devction, of deep penitence, of ele- 
vated praise, which prevails in these sacred songs, not- 
withstanding the defects attending the best metrical ver- 
sion of them which has been given to the church, ought 
to preserve them from falling into neglect. Some of 
these indeed, are too much wanting in dignity and poetic 
spirit, to be read in public; but they are generally free 
from both the didactic and the fanciful character, of 
which we have so many examples in our collections of 
hymns. 

Next to want of skill in selection, is the fault of an 



READING OF POETRY. 141 

undiscriminating, inanimate manner of reading. This 
consists in that measured, scanning attention to poetic ac- 
cent, and that undulating tone, by which the sense is 
made subordinate to sound. As this is a general fault in 
reading verse, no enlargement on it is necessary, except 
to add an example or two, marked according to the man- 
ner to be avoided. 

Here on my heart the burden lies, 
And past offences pain mine eyes. 

Lord should thy judgments grow severe, 
I am condemn'd but thou art clear. 

Thy blood can make me white as snow, 
No Jewish types could cleanse me so. 

This last stress on Jewish, though almost universally 
laid by readers, is an utter perversion of the sense, imply- 
ing that other types than Jewish might effect what they 
cannot. 

Another fault is a too prosaic manner. It is the op- 
posite of the foregoing, and consists in the disregard of 
poetic harmony. This I will exemplify only as it respects 
the pause at the end of the line. 

Come, let our voices join to raise 
A sacred song of solemn praise ; 
God is a sovereign king, rehearse 
His honors in exalted verse. 

Nor let our harden'd hearts renew 
The sins and plagues that Israel knew. 

Since they despise my rest, I swear 
Their feet shall never enter there, 



142 READING OF POETRY. 






See other examples of the same sort in Watts, Psalm 96, 
Com. Metre, 4 and 5 verses : and Hymn 140, 2 Book, 1 
verse. 

In cases of this sort, the reader, perhaps through af- 
fectation of sagacity, hastens over the end of the line, 
stopping just before and after it, when such stop is often 
quite as much against the rules of common punctuation, 
as to have made it at the end of the line. In the second 
example above, he would read thus, " Nor let our har- 
den'd hearts, — renew the sins, — and plagues, Sic. 

Another fault is the affectation of a rhetorical manner. 
It consists in want of simplicity. Perhaps the reader as- 
sumes a pompous or theatrical air, seeming to aim at the 
display of his oratorical powers. Or on the other hand, 
he repeats a stanza that is full of sublime or devotional 
sentiment, with the colloquial inflection of familiar prose. 
Both of these faults show, that the heart of the reader is 
not touched with that glow of religious feeling, which a 
Christian hymn ought to inspire. Indeed, so delicate and 
sacred is this thing, that all affectation of excellence, all 
effort that is apparently artificial, is intolerable. It is in 
this case, as it is in public prayer, and reading of the 
scriptures, a heart filled with reverence towards God, and 
warmed with the spirit of Christian devotion, is more ef- 
fectual than all things else, to govern aright the modula- 
tions of the voice. 

In regard to inflections in reading the stanzas of a 
hymn, I would suggest a caution against the very common 
practice of dropping the voice at the end of the second 
line, without regard to the connexion. Walker says that, 
H With very few exceptions, it may be laid down as a rule. 



READING OF POETRY. 143 

in reading a stanza, that the first line may end with the 
monotone, the second and third with the rising slide, and 
the last with the falling." The exceptions to this rule, or 
to any one that could be concisely expressed, I think are 
not " very few." When the continuity of sense through a 
stanza, is very close, the voice continues in the suspend- 
ing slide, much more than when long pauses intervene. 
The monotone, doubtless, should more frequently than is 
common, be heard at the end of a line. 

If some of the most rhetorical psalms were properly 
marked with a notation, especially so far as respects em- 
phasis, it might lead to a more discriminating manner in 
reading them. But instead of giving specimens to illus- 
trate my meaning here, the reader is referred to the ex- 
ercises [28.] where some brief examples will be found. 



CHAP. VII. 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 

I use the term action, not for the whole of deliver}', 
according to the most extensive sense given to it by the 
ancients ; nor yet in the most restricted modern sense, as 
equivalent to gesture merely ; but as including also atti- 
tudes, and expression of the countenance. While I shall 
have occasion often to refer to what has been taught in 
books on this subject, my chief design is to make such re- 
marks as have been suggested by my own observation and 
reflections. To what extent these remarks should be 
carried, in so small a treatise on delivery, is a point on 
which I have doubted ; and some perhaps may think that 
whatever is of practical importance might have been said 
in a briefer form. 

That action, which Cicero calls " sermo corporis," is 
an important part of oratory, is too evident to demand 
proof. If any one doubts this, let him ask himself, how 
does a great painter give reality v and life to his portrait ? 
How do children speak ? Kow do the dumb speak ? Ac- 
tion and attitude in these cases are the language of nature 
to express feeling and emotion. 

There are two extremes respecting this subject, each 
of which deserves a brief notice, in this place, as being at 
variance with common sense. 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 145 

The first is, that which encumbers a speaker with so 
much technical regulation of his movements, as to make 
him an automaton. It is a great mistake to suppose that 
a young student, before he can commence his efforts in 
oratory, must commit to memory a system of rules re- 
specting gesticulation, just as arithmetical tables must be 
learned by the tyro in numbers. When a beginner in elo- 
cution shall be able to look at an assembly, without an un- 
manly flutter of spirits, and shall have acquired a good 
degree of ease, in the attitudes and motions of his body, 
then it will be time enough to rectify, one after another, 
the faults of his own manner, by attention to good mod- 
els, and correct principles of action. This I am persuad- 
ed should be attempted gradually, rather than all at once ; 
for the transforming influence of practice, is essential to 
any useful application of precepts. And these precepts 
too, when given to an individual, I am fully satisfied, af- 
ter much observation, instead of being confined to minute 
directions respecting his own gesticulation, should espe- 
cially be adapted to instruct him in general principles. 
All attempts to regulate the attitudes and movements of 
his body, by diagrams and geometrical lines, without great 
skill in the teacher, will lead to an afTected, mechanical 
manner. His habits are of prime importance. By these, 
good or bad, he must be governed in the act of speaking, 
for to think of his manner then will be the certain ruin of 
all simplicity. Let these habits be well formed, and be 
his own, so as to govern his movements spontaneously, 
and trust the rest to emotion. 

The other extreme to which I alluded, is that which 
condemns all precepts and all preparatory practice too, 
13 



li 



146 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

as mischievous in their influence, because no one can 
learn to speak, till he comes into the real business of 
speaking, as his profession. 

On this I can make but one passing remark. Pre- 
paratory discipline of the faculties necessarily wants the 
stimulus of real business, in respect to every liberal art 
and valuable talent among men. Why then shall not 
such discipline be deemed useless in all other cases, as 
well as in elocution ? Why shall we not neglect to learn 
any thing, which relates to practical skill in a profession, 
till we actually enter on that profession ? 

I now proceed to offer my remarks on Rhetorical Ac- 
tion, dividing the subject into two parts. 

Part I. the principles of rhetorical action. 

The power of action consists wholly in its correspond- 
ence with thought and emotion ; and this correspondence 
arises either from nature or custom. 

Sect. 1. — Action as significant from nature. 

The body is the instrument of the soul, or the medi- 
um of expressing internal emotions, by external signs. 
The less these signs depend on the will, on usage, or on 
accident, the more uniform are they, and the more cer- 
tainly to be relied on. 

Expression of the countenance. 

The soul speaks most intelligibly, so far as visible 
signs are concerned, in those muscles which are the most 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 147 

pliant and prompt to obey its dictates. These are the 
muscles of the face ; which spontaneously, and almost 
instantaneously respond to the impulse from within. An- 
ger,' for example, shows itself in the contraction of the 
brow, the flash of the eye, the quivering of the lip, and the 
alternate paleness and crimson of the cheek. Terror is 
expressed by convulsive heaving of the bosom, and by 
hurried respiration and speech. Joy sparkles in the eye, 
— sorrow vents itself in tears. 

Now, why is it that these signs, invariably, and every 
where, are regarded as the stamp of reality ? The rea- 
son is, they are not only the genuine language of emotion, 
but are independent of the will. A groan or shriek speaks 
to the ear, as the language of distress, with far more 
thrilling effect than words. Yet these may be counter- 
feited by art. Much more may common tones of voice 
be rendered loud or soft, high or low, at pleasure. But 
not so with the signs which emotion imprints on the face. 
Whether anger, fear, joy, — shall show themselves in the 
hue of my cheek, or the expression of my eye depends 
not at all on my choice, any more than whether my heart 
shall beat, and my blood circulate. So unequivocal is 
this language of the passions, and so incapable of being 
applied to purposes of deception, that all men feel its force, 
instinctively and immediately. They know that the hand 
or the tongue, which obey the dictates of the will, may 
deceive; but the/ace cannot speak falsehood. 

I might add, that he whose soul is so destitute of emo- 
tion, as not to impart this expression to his countenance, 
or he whose acquired habits are so unfortunate, as to frus- 
trate this expression, whatever qualities he may possess 
besides, lacks one grand requisite to true eloquence. 



148 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

If the visible signs of passion are thus invariable, so 
that even a child instinctively understands the smile or the 
frown of its nurse, it is probably no visionary theory which 
supposes a correspondence, to some extent, between the 
habits of the mind, and certain configurations in the fea- 
tures of the face. Every one knows the difference be- 
tween the cheerful aspect of innocence, the vivacity of 
intelligence, the charming languor of pity or grief, as im- 
printed on the countenance ; and the scowl of misanthro- 
py, the dark suspicion of guilt, the vacant stare of stupid- 
ity, or the haggard phrensy of despair. And it is reason- 
able to suppose that affections and intellectual habits, such 
as benevolence or malignity, cheerfulness or melancholy, 
deep thought or frivolity, must imprint themselves, just in 
proportion to their predominance, in distinct and perma- 
nent lines upon the face. 

Attitude and Mien. 

Here again, all distinctions, of any value, result from 
bur knowledge of the influence which the mind has on 
the body. An erect attitude denotes majesty, activity, 
strength. It becomes the authority of a commander, the 
energy of a soldier in arms, and, in all cases, the dignity 
of conscious innocence. Adam and Eve, in the descrip- 
tion of Milton, on account of their noble shape and erect 
carriage, " seem'd lords of all." The leaning attitude, 
in its varieties of expression, may denote affection, re- 
spect, the earnestness of entreaty, the dignity of compo- 
sure, the listlessness of indifference, or the lassitude of 
disease. 

The air of a man too, including his general motion, 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 149 

has its language. That peculiarity in the walk of differ- 
ent persons, which enables us to distinguish at a distance, 
one friend from another, does not of course make a cor- 
respondent description of character. But the meas- 
ured pace of the ploughman, the strut of the coxcomb, 
and the dignified gait of the military chief, we necessari- 
ly associate with a supposed difference of personal quali- 
ties and habits, in the individuals. Hence the queen of 
Olympus is represented in poetic fable, as claiming to be 
known by her stately carriage ; u divurn incedo regina." 
And so Venus was known to her son, by the elegance of 
her motion ; " incessu patuit dea." 

In those parts of the body, which act frequently and 
visibly in the' common offices of life, motion is more or 
less significant according to circumstances. A deaf man 
places his hand by his ear, in such a manner as partially 
to serve the purpose of a hearing trumpet. He opens 
his mouth, in the attitude of listening, because defective 
hearing is assisted by transmission of sound through a pas- 
sage from the mouth to the ear. 

Joy approaching to rapture, gives a sparkling brillian- 
cy to the eye, and a sprightly activity to the limbs. We 
see this in a long absent child, springing to the arms of its 
parent ; we see it in the beautiful narrative of the lame 
man, who had been miraculously healed, " walking, and 
leaping, and praising God." 

The head gently reclined, denotes grief or shame ; 
erect, — courage, firmness ; thrown back or shaken, — dis- 
sent, negation ; forwards, assent. 

The hand, raised and inverted, repels ; more elevat- 
ed and extended, denotes surprise ; placed on the mouth, 
13* 



150 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

silence; on the head, pain; on the breast, affection, or 
an appeal to conscience ; clenched it signifies defiance. 
Both hands raised, with the palms united, express suppli- 
cation ; gently clasped, thankfulness ; wrung, agony. 

In most of these cases, action is significant because it 
is spontaneous and uniform. The mother who saw her 
son just shot dead, in Convent Garden, expressed her 
amazement by a motion of her hand, such as a thousand 
others would make probably without one exception, in 
similar circumstances. 

A Greek eulogist of Caesar says, " his right hand was 
mighty to command, which by its majestic power did 
quell the fierce audacity of barbarous men." " A man 
standing by the bed of an expiring friend, waving his 
hand with the palm outward, tells an officious nurse to 
stand back at a distance. Again the same hand beck- 
ons, with the palm inward, and the nurse flies to his assis- 
tance. "* The Roman who held up the stump of his 
arm, from which the hand was lost, in the service of his 
country, pleaded for his brother, with an eloquence sur- 
passing the power of words. And all the influence of 
the tribunes could not persuade the people to pass a vote 
of condemnation against Manlius, while he stood and si- 
lently stretched out his hand, towards the Capitol, which 
his valor had saved. 

*Siddons. 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 151 



Sect. 2. — Action considered as significant from custom. 

In this respect its meaning, like that of words, is arbi- 
trary, local and mutable. In Europe, respect is express- 
ed by uncovering the head ; in the East, by keeping it cov- 
ered. In one country, the same thing is expressed by 
bowing, in another, by kneeling, in another, by prostration. 
The New-Zealander presses his nose against that of his 
friend, to denote what we express, by a squeeze of the 
hand.* - The European welcomes the return of a belov- 
ed object by an embrace ; — the Otaheitan signifies the 
same emotion by tearing his hair, and lacerating his body. 

On gestures of this description I shall say nothing 
more, except that they have very little concern with grave 
oratory. This allows nothing as becoming, that does not 
correspond with time and place, the age of the orator, 
and the elevation of the subject. It abjures mimicry and 
pantomime. The theatre admits of attitude and action, 
that would be altogether extravagant in the senate. The 
forum too, though much more restricted than the stage, al- 
lows a violence that would be unsuitable to the business 
of the sacred orator. Indeed, the dignity of eloquence can 
in no case condescend to histrionic levity. The comic 
actor may descend to minute imitation ; he may, for ex- 
ample, represent the fingers of the physician applied to 
the pulse of his patient, or of the musician to the strings 
of his instrument. But in the orator, all this is to be, as 
Quinctilian says, " longissime fugiendum." 

* Homer makes Glaucus and Diomed, two chiefs of the oppo- 
sing armies, shake hands, as a token of individual friendship. Iliad 
VI. 233. 



152 RHETORICAL ACTION. 



Part II. — Faults of Rhetorical Action. 

Before I proceed to that cursory view of these which 
I propose to give, it may be useful to advert to the sour- 
ces from which they are derived. These are chiefly, per- 
sonal defects, diffidence, and imitation. 

Any considerable defect, original or accidental, in 
the conformation of the body, may injure the force or 
gracefulness of its movements. The walk of Achilles 
must have had more dignity, than the halting gait of Ther- 
sites. If Cicero had lost his right hand, or even the 
thumb or forefinger of that hand, though he would have 
been still the first orator of Rome, he would have been 
somewhat less than Cicero. Austin observes that short- 
ness of neck and of arms is unfavorable to oratorical ges- 
ture. Put I am not aware that this remark is justified by 
facts, except so far as corpulence is unfriendly to agility 
and freedom of movement. 

Many defects in the action of public speakers, have 
their origin probably in an unmanly diffidence. When 
one, who has had no preparatory discipline in public 
speaking, rises to address a large assembly, he is appalled 
at the very aspect of his audience, and dares not stir a 
limb, lest he should commit some mistake. Before he 
surmounts this timidity, he is liable to fall under the do- 
minion of habits, from which he can never release himself. 
When, therefore, Walker says, " A speaker should use 
no more gesture than he can help," he must mean an ac- 
complished speaker, whose external powers spontaneously 
obey the impulse of his feelings. But it would be idle 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 153 

to say that a prisoner, whose hands are pinioned by cords, 
should stir them no more than he can help. And it is no 
less idle to say this of a speaker, whose hands are pinion- 
ed by habit. Cut the cords that bind him, set his limbs 
at liberty to obey his inward emotions, and I readily ad- 
mit the justice of the principle. But when diffidence 
does not acquire such an ascendency as to suppress ac- 
tion, it may render it constrained and inappropriate, and 
in many ways frustrate its utility. 

The only other cause of the imperfections which I am 
about to notice, is imitation. This, when combined with 
the one just mentioned, operates with an influence more 
powerful perhaps, than in any other case. Addison, in 
describing English oratory, says " We can talk of life and 
death in cold blood, and keep our temper, in a discourse 
that turns upon everything that is dear to us." This 
censure he extends to the pulpit, the bar, and the senate. 
The fact he accounts for, partly by the charitable suppo- 
sition that the English are peculiarly modest ; while he 
allows us, if he does not oblige us, to ascribe it ultimately 
to a frigid national temperament. And yet, in this he 
seems hardly consistent 5 for he adds, " Though our zeal 
breaks out in the finest tropes and figures, it is not able to 
stir a limb about us." 

But how can the external signs of emotion be thus in- 
congruous ? A zeal that kindles the soul of a speaker, 
that bursts from his mouth in tropes, never fails to stir his 
limbs, unless some powerful, counteracting cause prevents. 
Now we have just seen that such a cause may exist, 
which, even in spite of emotion, will as effectually confine 
a man's hands, as if they were literally bound. And 



154 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

what absurdity is there in supposing, that what was excess 
of modesty, in a few Englishmen of distinction, at some 
early period, was transferred to others, by imitation ; so 
that the want of gesture, of which Addison complains, be- 
came a national characteristic ? National habits result 
from individual, often by a process of ages, the effects of 
which are manifest, while the operation is unseen. And 
it is more philosophical to ascribe the fact on which I am 
remarking, to a public taste, formed and perpetuated by 
imitation, than to suppose, as is often done, a temperament 
singularly phlegmatic in a people, whose poets, and secu- 
lar orators, have unquestionably surpassed all their co- 
temporaries, in powers of imagination. 

But ivant of action is not the only fault that may 
spring from imitation. In the case of individuals, excess 
and awkwardness, may arise from undue regard to some 
improper model. Cicero mentions an orator, who w T as 
distinguished for pathos, and a wry face ; and says that 
another who made him his pattern, imitated his distor- 
tion of features, but not his pathos. Special faults in one 
whom we mean to imitate, strike attention, because they 
commonly appear in the form of peculiarity. This, while 
it renders imitation more preposterous, renders it, at the 
same time, more obvious. The worst gesture of Hamil- 
ton has been transmitted by imitation, to this time ; and 
is used by some who never saw that great man, and who 
know nothing of his manner as a speaker. In this way, 
some peculiarity, that was perhaps accidental at first, may 
acquire ascendency in a college, and be transmitted from 
one generation to another of its students. 

[n proceeding now to mention, with more particular- 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 155 

ity, the faults of action, I shall follow the order of my 
previous remarks on countenance, attitude, and gesture. 

The eye is the only part of the face, that it falls with- 
in my design to notice here, both because this is the chief 
seat of expression, and because its significance is especial- 
ly liable to be frustrated by mismanagement. For rea- 
sons already mentioned, the intercourse of soul between 
speaker and hearers, is carried on more unequivocally 
through the eye, than in any other way. But if he neg- 
lects to look at them, and they in return neglect, (as they 
commonly will,) to look at him ; the mutual reaction of 
feeling through the countenance is lost ; and vocal lan- 
guage is all the medium of intercourse that remains.* 

The eye " bent on vacuity," as the artists call it, is the 
next most common defect, of this sort. The glass eye 
of a wax figure at once tells its own character. There 
may be, in other respects, the proportion and complexion 
of a human face ; but that eye, the moment it is examin- 
ed, you perceive is nothing more, and, at best, it can be 
nothing more than a bungling counterfeit. So the eye 
of a speaker may be open, and yet not see ; at least there 
may be no discrimination, no meaning in its look. It 

* The reader will please to observe that, in the following pages, 
such remarks as apply solely or peculiarly to the pulpit, are given in 
the notes. 

It falls not within my design here, to inquire how far the preva- 
lent practice of reading sermons ought to be dispensed with. But 
it is plainly absurd to speak of expression in a preacher's eye, while 
it is fixed on a manuscript. Nearly the same infelicity, and on some 
accounts a greater one, attends the rapid, dodging cast of the eye 
from the notes to the hearers, and back again ; implying a servile 
dependence on what is written, even in repeating the most familiar 
declarations of the Bible. And this infelicity is still aggravated by 
such a position of the manuscript, as to require the eye to be turned 
directly downward in looking at it. 



156 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

does not look at any thing. There is in its expression, a 
generality, a vacuity, so to speak, that expresses nothing. 
To the same class belongs that indefinite sweep of the 
eye, which passes from one side to another of an assem- 
bly, resting no where ; and that tremulous, waving cast of 
the eye, and winking of the eyelid, which is in direct con- 
trast to an open, collected, manly expression of the face.* 

So fatal are these faults to the impression of delivery, 
that too much care cannot be taken to avoid them. 

Attitude I use, not in the theatrical sense of the word, 
(for this has no concern with oratory,) but as denoting the 
general positions of the body, which are becoming or oth- 
erwise in a speaker. In some few instances I have ob- 
served the head to be kept so erect, as to give the air of 
haughtiness. In others, it is dropped so low, that the man 
seems to be carelessly surveying his own person. In oth- 
ers it is reclined towards one shoulder, so as to give the 
appearance of languor or indolence. f 

As to the degree of motion that is proper for the body, 
it may be safely said, that while the fixedness of a post is 
an extreme, all violent tossing of the body from side to 
side, rising on the toes, or writhing of the shoulders and 
limbs, are not less unseemly. 



* Here again the habit acquired by some preachers, from closely 
reading their sermons, is such, that when they raise their eye from 
the paper, they fix it on the floor of the aisle, or on a post or pannel, 
to avoid a direct look at their hearers. 

t There is often something characteristic in the air with which 
a preacher enters a church, ascends the pulpit, and rises in it to 
address an assembly. If he assumes the gracefulness of a fine gen- 
tleman, as if he were practising the lessons of an assembly room, ev- 
ery hearer of discernment will see that his object is to exhibit him- 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 157 

The remarks which come next to be made on gesture, 
are more various.* 

One principal fault which I have noticed in this, is want 
of appropriateness. By this I mean that it is not suffi- 
ciently adapted to circumstances. An address to an as- 
sembly of common men, admits a boldness of action, tha* 
would be unseemly in one delivered to a prince. f 



self, and will be offended at so gross a want of that seriousness 
which becomes his sacred office. 

In minor points, — what constitutes decorum depends not on 
philosophy nor accident, but on custom. From real or affected 
carelessness on such points, the preacher may fix on some trivial 
circumstance, that attention of his hearers, which should be devot- 
ed to greater things. He may do this, for example., by standing 
much too high, or too low in the pulpit ; by rising, as in the act 
of commencing his sermon, before the singing is closed ; or delay- 
ing for so long an interval, as to excite apprehension that something 
has befallen him ; by an awkward holding of his Psalm book, or es- 
pecially his Bible, with one side hanging down or doubled back- 
wards ; — by drawing his hands behind him, or thrusting them into 
jus clothes. 

In these things, as in all others, connected with the worship of 
God, it is the province of good sense to avoid peculiarity in trifles. 

* The prevailing taste in our own country, like that of England, 
has been to employ but little action in the pulpit. Whitefield, in 
the last century, broke through the trammels of custom, in a bold- 
ness and variety of action, bordering on that of the stage. But his 
gesture, like his elocution, was far from the declamatory. His 
hand had scarcely less authority than Ccesar's ; and the movement 
even of his finger gave an electric thrill to the bosoms of his hear- 
ers. Massillon's action was less diversified, and less powerful, 
though more refined, as was the general character of his eloquence. 

t On this principle it is, that gesture is felt to be so unseason- 
able in personating God, and in addresses made to him. When we 
introduce him as speaking to man, or when we speak of his adorable 
perfections, or to him in prayer, the sentiments inspired demand 
composure and reverence of manner. Good taste then can never ap- 
prove the stretching upward of the hands at full length, in the man- 
ner of Whitefield, at the commencement of prayer; nor the frown- 
ing aspect and the repelling movement of the hand, with which ma- 
ny utter the sentence of the final Judge, " Depart, ye cursed," &c. 

14 



15S RHETORICAL ACTION. 

More vivacity and variety is admissible in the action 
of a young speaker, than of one who is aged ; and the 
same boldness of manner which is proper when the orator 
is kindled to a glowing fervor, in the close of a discourse, 
would be out of place at its commencement. Yet the same 
action is used by some speakers, in the exordium as in the 
conclusion, in cool argument to the understanding, as in 
impassioned appeals to the heart. Good sense will lead 
a man, as Quinctilian says, "To act as well as to speak 
in a different manner, to different persons, at different 
times, and on different subjects." 

Nearly of the same class is another kind of faults, 
arising from want of discrimination. Of this sort is that 
puerile imitation which consists in acting words, instead 
of thoughts. The declaimer can never utter the word 
heart, without laying his hand on his breast ; nor speak of 
God or heaven, in the most incidental manner, without 
directing his eye and his gesture upwards. Let the same 
principle be carried out, in repeating the prophet's descrip- 
tion of true fasting ; " It is not for a man to bow down 
his head as a bulrush," &lc. — and every one would see 
that, to conform the gesture to the words, is but childish 
mimicry. This false taste has been reprobated even on 
the stage, as in the following passage from Hamlet. 

— Why should the poor be flatter'd ? 

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; 

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, 

When thrift may follow fawning. 

■ Give me the man, 

That is not passion's slave.— 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 159 

A certain actor, in repeating these lines, bent the knee, 
and kissed the hand, instead of assuming, as he ought, 
the firm attitude and indignant look, proper to express 
Hamlet's contempt for a cringing parasite. But it is still 
more absurd, in grave delivery, to regard mere phraseol- 
ogy instead of sentiment and emotion. 

There is no case in which this want of discrimination 
oftener occurs, than in a class of words denoting some- 
times numerical, and sometimes local extent, accompanied 
hy the spreading of both hands; the significance of this 
gesture being destroyed by misapplication. The follow- 
ing examples may illustrate my meaning. 

Exam. 1 . " The goodness of God is the source of 
all our blessings." The declaimer, when he utters the 
word God, raises his eye and his right hand ; and when 
he utters the word all, extends both hands. Now the lat- 
ter action confounds two things, that are very distinct, num- 
ber and space. When I recount all the blessings of my 
life, they are very many ; but why should I spread my 
hands, to denote a multiplicity that is merely numerical 
and successive ? when the thought has no concern with lo- 
cal dimensions any more than in this case : " All the days 
of Methuselah were nine hundred and sixty years." 

Exam. 2. " All the actions of our lives will be brought 
into judgment." Here again, the thought is that of arith- 
metical succession, not of local extent ; and if any gesture 
is demanded, it is not the spreading of both hands. 

Exam. 3. " I bring you glad tidings of great joy, 
which shall be to all people." Here the local extent 
which belongs to the thought, is properly expressed by 
action of both hands. 



160 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

If there is "language in action, it requires propriety and 
precision. The indiscriminate movement of the hands 
signifies nothing. Want of emphasis in this language is a 
great, but common fault. When the speaker, however, 
has an emphatic stroke of the hand, its effect is lost if 
that stroke does not accompany the emphasis of the voice \ 
that is, if it falls one syllable after the stress of voice, or 
if it is disproportionate in force to that stress, in the same 
degree its meaning is impaired. The direction of the 
hand too, in which the emphatic stroke terminates, is sig- 
nificant. The elevated termination suits high passion ; 
the horizontal, decision ; the downward, disapprobation. 
And any of these may denote definitive designation of par- 
ticular objects. 

Another fault of action is excess. In some cases it is 
too constant. To enter on a discourse with passionate 
exclamations and high wrought figures, while the speaker 
and audience are both cool, is not more absurd than to 
begin with continual gesticulation. No man probably ev- 
er carried the language of action to so high a pitch as Gar- 
rick. Yet Dr. Gregory says of this great dramatic speak- 
er ; " He used less action than any performer I ever saw; 
but his action always had meaning ; it always spoke. By 
being less than that of other actors, it had the greater 
force." But if constant action has too much levity, even 
for the stage, -what shall we say of that man's taste, who, 
in speaking on a subject of serious importance, can scarce- 
ly utter a sentence without extending his hands. " Ne 
quid nimis."* 

* Fenelon says, — " Some time ago, I happened to fall asleep at 
a sermon ; and when I awaked, the preacher was in a very violent 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 161 

But action may be not merely too much ; — it may be 
too violent. Such are the habits of some men, that they 
can never raise the hand, without stretching the arm at 
full length above the head, or in a horizontal sweep ; or 
drawing it back, as if in the attitude of prostrating some 
giant at a stroke. But such a man seems to forget that 
gentleness, and tranquillity, and dignity, are attributes that 
prevail more than violence, in real oratory. The full 
stroke of the hand, with extended arm, should be reserv- 
ed for its own appropriate occasions. For common pur- 
poses, a smaller movement is sufficient, and even more 
expressive. The meaning of a gesture depends not on 
its compass. The tap of Cassar's finger was enough to 
awe a Senate. 

Action is often too complex. When there is want of 
precision, in the intellectual habits of the speaker, he 
adopts perhaps two or three gestures for one thought. 
In this way all simplicity is sacrificed ; for though the idea 
is complex, an attempt to exhibit each shade of meaning 
by the hand, is ridiculous. After one principal stroke, 
every appendage to this, commonly weakens its effect. 

Another fault of action, is too great uniformity. Like 
periodic tones and stress of voice, the same gesture recur- 

agitation, so that I fancied at first, he was pressing some important 
point of morality. But he was only giving notice, that on the Sun- 
day following, he would preach upon repentance. I was extreme- 
ly surprised to hear so indifFerent a thing uttered with so much ve- 
hemence. The motion of the arm is proper, when the orator in 
very vehement; but he ought not to move his arm in order to ap- 
pear vehement. Nay, there are many things that ought to be pro 
nounced calmly, and without any motion." 

14* 



162 RHETORICAL ACTION. 



ring constantly, shows want of discriminating taste. " In all 
things," says Cicero, " repetition is the parent of satiety."* 

This barren sameness usually prevails, in a man's 
manner, just in proportion as it is ungraceful. Suppose, 
for example, that he is accustomed to raise his arm by a 
motion from the shoulder, without bending the elbow ; 
or that the elbow is bent to a right angle, and thrust out- 
ward ; or that it is drawn close to the side, so that the ac- 
tion is confined to the lower part of the arm and hand ; 
or that the hand is drawn to the left, by bending the wrist 
so far as to give the appearance of constraint, or backwards 
so far as to contract the thumb and fingers ; — in all these 
cases, the motion is at once stiff and unvaried. 

The same thing is commonly true of all short, abrupt, 
and jerking movements. These remind you of the dry 
limb of a tree, forced into short and rigid vibrations by the 
wind ; and not of the luxuriant branch of the willow, 
gently and variously waving before the breeze. The ac- 
tion of the graceful speaker, is easy and flowing, as well as 
forcible. His hand describes curve lines, rather than 
right or acute angles; and when its office is finished, in 
any case, it drops gently down at his side, instead of be- 
ing snatched away, as from the bite of a reptile. The ac- 
tion of young children is never deficient in grace or variety ; 
because it is not vitiated by diffidence, affectation, or habit. 

There is one more class of faults, which seems to arise 
from an attempt to shun such as I have just described, 
and which I cannot better designate, than by the phrase 
mechanical variety. 

* " When a preacher," says Reybaz, " has only one gesture, it 
will necessarily, be incorrect or insignificant : — a dull uniformity of 
action is the common defect of preachers." 



UttETORlCAL ACTION. 163 

This is analogous to that variety of tones, which is pro- 
duced by an effort to be various, without regard to sense. 
The diversity of notes, like those of the chiming clock, re- 
turns periodically, but is always the same diversity. So a 
speaker may have several gestures, which he repeats al- 
ways in the same successive order. The most common 
form of this artificial variety, consists in the alternate use 
of the right hand and the left. I have seen a preacher, 
who aimed to avoid sameness of action, in the course of 
a few sentences, extend first his right hand, then his left, 
and then both. This order was continued through the 
discourse; so that these three gestures, whatever might 
be the sentiment, returned, with nearly periodical exact- 
ness. Now whatever variety is attained in this way, is at 
best but a uniform variety ; and is the more disgusting, 
in proportion as it is the more studied and artificial. 

But the question arises, does this charge always lie 
against the use of the left hand alone ? I answer, by no 
means. The almost universal precepts, however, in the in- 
stitutes of oratory, giving precedence to the right hand, are 
not without reason. It has been said, indeed, that the con- 
finement of the left hand in holding up the robe, was orig- 
inally the ground of this preference ; and that this is a 
reason which does not exist in modern times. But how 
did it happen that this service, denoting inferiority, came 
to be assigned to the left, rather than the right hand ? 
Doubtless because this accords with a general usage of 
men, through all time. When Joseph brought his two 
sons to be blessed by Jacob, the patriarch signified which 
was the object of special benediction, by placing the right 
hand on his head, and the left on the head of the other. 



164 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

As a token of respect to his mother, Solomon gave her a 
seat on the ri°:ht hand of his throne. In the same man- 

o 

ner the righteous will be distinguished from the wicked, 
in the final judgment. Throughout the Bible, the right 
hand is spoken of as the emblem of honor, strength, au- 
thority, or victory. 

The common- act of salutation is expressed by the 
right hand ; and hence its name dextra, from dr/ofiat to 
fake, that is by the hand ; and hence, by figure, the En- 
glish word dextrous, denoting skill and agility. General 
custom has always given preference to the right hand, 
when only one is used, in the common offices of life. The 
sword of the warrior, the. knife of the surgical operator, 
the pen of the author, belong to this hand. With us, to 
call a man left handed is to call him awkward ; and it is a 
curious fact that the Sandwich Islanders use the same 
phrase to denote ignorance or unskilfulness. To give 
the left hand in salutation, denotes a careless familiarity 
and levity, never offered to a superior. To employ this 
in taking an oath, or in giving what is called the " right 
hand of fellowship," as a religious act, would be deemed 
rusticity or irreverent trifling. 

Now so long as this general usage exists, without in- 
quiring here into its origin, it is manifest that the left hand 
can never, without incongruity, assume precedence over 
the right, so as to perform alone the principal gesture, with 
the few exceptions mentioned below. To raise this hand, 
for example, as expressing authority ; or to lay it on the 
breast, in an appeal to conscience, would be likely to ex- 
cite a smile. Though it often acts, with great significance, 
in conjunction with the right hand, the only cases, that I 



RHETORICAL ACTION. 165 

recollect, where it can with propriety act alone, in the 
principal gesture, are these : 

First, when the left hand is spoken of in contradistinc- 
tion from the right ; " He shall set the sheep on his 
right hand, but the goats on his left." Secondly, when 
there is local allusion to some object on the left of the 
speaker. For example, if his face is to the north, and he 
points to the setting sun, it is better perhaps to do it with 
his left hand, than to turn his body, so as to make it con- 
venient to do it with his right. Thirdly, when two things 
are contrasted, though without local allusion, if the case 
requires that the one be marked by the action of the right 
hand, it is often best to mark the antithetic object with the 
left. 

But I would not magnify, by dwelling on it, a ques- 
tion of so small moment. It would have been despatched 
in a sentence or two, had it not seemed proper to show, 
that what some are disposed to call an arbitrary and 
groundless precept of ancient rhetoric, has its foundation 
in a general and instinctive feeling of propriety. Still I 
would say, that when a departure from this precept results, 
not from affectation, but from emotion, it is far better than 
any minute observance of propriety, which arises from 
a coldly correct and artificial habit. 

In finishing this chapter, the general remark may be 
made as applying to action, and indeed to the whole sub- 
ject of delivery, that many smaller blemishes are scarcely 
observed in a speaker, who is deeply interested in his sub- 
ject ; while the affectation of excellence is never excus- 
ed by judicious hearers. To be a first-rate orator, re- 
quires a combination of powers which few men possess ; 



166 RHETORICAL ACTION. 

and no means of cultivation can ever confer these highest 
requisites for eloquence, on public speakers generally. 
But neither is it necessary to eminent usefulness, that 
these requisites should be possessed by all. Any man, 
who has good sense, and a warm heart, if his faculties for 
elocution are not essentially defective, and if he is patient 
and faithful in the discipline of these faculties, may ren- 
der himself an agreeable and impressive speaker. 



& 



EXERCISER 



PART I. 

DESIGNED TO ILLUSTRATE THE PRINCIPLES OP 
RHETORICAL DELIVERY. 



REMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. 

These Exercises are divided into two parts. The 
first part consists of selections, which are made expressly 
to illustrate the principles laid down in the foregoing 

ANALYSIS OF RHETORICAL DELIVERY. The classification of 

these selections is denoted, in each case, by the number, 
corresponding with the marginal figures in the Analysis. 
In using these exercises of the first part, the student may 
be assisted by the following remarks and directions. 

1. When "a principle is supposed to be already famil- 
iar, the illustrations will be few ; in cases of more difilcul- 
ty, or more importance, they will be extended to greater 
length. 

2. In these examples, a rhetorical notation is applied, 
to designate inflection, emphasis, and, in some instances, 
modulation. When a word has but a moderate stress, it 
will often be distinguished only by the mark of inflection ; 



168 REMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. 

when the stress amounts to decided emphasis, it will be 
denoted by the Italic type ; and sometimes when strong- 
ly intensive, by small capitals. The reader is desired to 
remember too, that in passages taken from the Scriptures, 
Italic words are not used as in the English Bible, but 
simply to express emphasis. 

3. This rhetorical notation is applied, only to cases in 
which my ow 7 n judgment is pretty clear ; though, in many 
of these cases, I am aware that there is room for diversity 
of taste. Should this notation be found useful in practice, 
it may be more extensively applied, in a separate collec- 
tion of exercises. 

4. The principle to be illustrated by any Exercise, 
should be carefully examined and well understood, in the 
first place ; and, until the student has become quite famil- 
iar with this praxis of the voice, he should not attempt to 
read an example, longer or shorter, without previous at- 
tention to it. 

5. The reader will observe that only very short ex- 
amples can be expected to apply exclusively to a single 
principle. On account of the great labor and difficulty 
of selecting such examples, longer ones are often chosen, 
which include other principles besides the one specially in 
view. It will be deemed sufficient, in such cases, that 
there is an obvious relation to the point chiefly to be re- 
garded. 



Ex. 1, 2.] EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 169 



EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 



1 JJ Page 27. Difficult articulation from immediate suc- 
cession of the same or similar sounds. 

1 . The youth hates study. 

2. The wild beasts draggled through the vale. 

3. The steadfast Granger in the forests Grayed. 

4. It was the fines* street of the city. 

5. When Ajaa? strives some rock's vast weight to throw. 

6. It was the severest storm of the season, but the 
masts stood through the gale. 

7. That lasts till night. ") 
That las* still night. $ 

8. He can debate on either side of the question. > 
He can debate on neither side of the question. ) 

9. Who ever imagined such an ocean to exist ? > 
Who ever imagined such a notion to exist ? J 

2.] Page 28. Difficult succession of consonants without 
accent. 

1. He has taken leave of terrestrial trials and enjoy- 
ments, and is laid in the grave, the common receptacle and 
home of mortals. 

2. Though this barbarous chief received us very cour- 
teously, and spoke to us very communicatively at the first 
interview, we soon lost our confidence in the disinterest- 
edness of his motives. 

3. Though there could be no doubt as to the reason- 
ableness of our request, yet he saw fit peremptorily to re- 

15 



170 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 3, 4. 

fuse it, and authoritatively to require that we should de- 
part from the country. As no alternative was left us, we 
unhesitatingly prepared to obey this arbitrary mandate. 



3.] Page 29. Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels 
The brief illustration of this at p. 30 is perhaps sufficient 






EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 



4.] Page 47. The disjunctive (or) has the rising in- 
flection before, and the falling after it, 

1. Then said Jesus unto them, I will ask you one 
thing ; Is it lawful on the sabbath-days to do good, or to 
do evil ? to save life, or to destroy it ? 

2. Whether we are hurt by a rnad or a blind man, 
the pain is still the same. And with regard to those who 
are undone, it avails little whether it be by a man who 
deceives them, or by one who is himself deceived. 

3. Has God forsaken the works of his own hands ? 
or does he always graciously preserve, and keep and 
guide them ? 

4. Therefore, O ye judges ! you are now to consid- 
er, whether it is more probable that the deceased was 
murdered by the man who inherits his estate, or by him, 
who inherits nothing but beggary by the same death. By 
the man who was raised from penury to plenty, or by him 
who was brought from happiness to misery. By him 
whom the lust of lucre has inflamed with the most invet- 



Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 171 

erate hatred against his own relations ; or by him whose 
life was such, that he never knew what gain was, but from 
the product of his own labors. By him, who, of all 
dealers in the trade of blood, was the most audacious ; 
or by him who was so little accustomed to the forum and 
trials, that he dreads not only the benches of a court, but 
the very town. In short, ye judges, what I think most to 
this point is, you are to consider whether it is most likely 
that an enemy, or a son, would be guilty of this murder. 

5. As for the particular occasion of these [charity] 
schools, there cannot any offer more worthy a generous 
mind. Would you do a handsome thing without return ? 
— do it for an infant that is not sensible of the obligation.* 
Would you do it for the public good ? — do it for one who 
will be an honest artificer. Would you do it for the sake 
of heaven ?■ — give it for one who shall be instructed in the 
worship of Him, for whose sake you gave it. 

5.] Page 47. The direct question has the rising inflec- 
tion, and the answer has the falling. 

1 . Will the Lord cast off forever ? and will he be 
favorable no more? Is his mercy clean gone forever? 
doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God forgotten 
to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his tender 
mercies ? 

2. Is not this the carpenter's son ? is not his mother 
called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and 
Simon, and Judas ? and his sisters, are they not all with us ? 

3. Are we intended for actors in the grand drama of 

* Disjunctive or is understood. 



172 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 5. 

eternity? Are we candidates for the plaudit of the ra- 
tional creation ? Are we formed to participate the su- 
preme beatitude in communicating happiness ? Are we 
destined to co-operate with God in advancing the order 
and perfection of his works ? How sublime a creature 
then is man ! 

4. Can we believe a thinking being, that is in a per- 
petual progress of improvements, and travelling on from 
perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad 
into the works of his creator, and made a few discoveries 
of his infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish 
at his first setting out, and in the very beginning of his 
inquiries ? 

The following are examples of both question and answer. 

5. Who are the persons that are most apt to fall into 
peevishness and dejection — that are continually complain- 
ing of the world, and see nothing but wretchedness around 
them ? Are they those whom want compels to toil for 
their daily bread ? — who have no treasure but the labor of 
their hands — who rise, with the rising sun, to expose them- 
selves to all the rigors of the seasons, unsheltered from 
the winter's cold, and unshaded from the summer's heat? 
No. The labors of such are the very blessings of their 
condition. 

6. What, then, what was Caesar's object ? Do we se- 
lect extortioners, to enforce the. laws of equity? Do we 
make choice of profligates, to guard the morals of socie- 
ty ? Do we depute atheists, to preside over the rites of 
relfgion ? I will not press the answer : I need not press 
the answer ; the premises of my argument render it un- 



Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 173 

necessary. — What would content you ? Talent ? No ! 
Enterprise ? No ! Courage ? No ! Reputation ? No ! 
Virtue ? No ! The men whom you would select, should 
possess, not one, but all, of these. 

7. Can the truth be discovered when the slaves of 
the prosecutor are brought as witnesses against the per- 
son accused ? Let us hear now what kind of an exami- 
nation this was. Call in Ruscio : call in Casca. Did 
Clodius way-lay Milo ? He did : Drag them instantly to 
execution.- — He did not: Let them have their liberty. 
What can be more satisfactory than this method of exam- 
ination ? 

8. Are you desirous that your talents and abilities may 
procure you respect ? Display them not ostentatiously 
to public view. Would you escape the envy which your 
riches might excite ? Let them not minister to pride, but 
adorn them with humility. — There is not an evil incident 
to human nature for which the gospel doth not provide a 
remedy. Are you ignorant of many things which it 
highly concerns you to know? The gospel offers you 
instruction. Have you deviated from the path of duty ? 
The gospel offers you forgiveness. Do temptations sur- 
round you ? The gospel offers you the aid of heaven. 
Are you exposed to mfsery? It consoles you. Are you 
subject to death ? It offers you immortality. 

9. Oh how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetness of affianced show men dutiful? 
Why so didst thou : or seem they grave and learned? 
Why so didst thou : come they of noble family ? 
Why so didst thou : seem they religious ? 

Why so didst thou. 
15* 



174 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 6, 7. 

6.] Page 48. When (or) is used conjunctively, it has 
the same inflection before and after it. 

In some sentences the disjunctive and the conjunctive use of or 
are so intermingled as to require careful attention to distinguish 
them. 

1. Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the 
furrow? or will he harrow the valleys after thee? Wilt 
thou trust him because his strength is great ? or wilt thou 
leave thy labor to him ? Gavest thou the goodly wings 
unto the peacocks ? or wings and feathers unto the os- 
trich ? Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook? or 
his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down ? Canst 
thou put a hook into his nose ? or bore his jaw through 
with a thorn ? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ? 
or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens ? Canst thou fill 
his skin with barbed irons ? or his head with fish spears ? 

2. But should these credulous infidels after all be in 
the right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable ; 
from believing it what harm could ensue ? would it ren- 
der princes more tyrannical, or subjects more ungoverna- 
ble, the rich more fnsolent, or the poor more disorderly ? 
Would it make worse parents or children, husbands, or 
wives; masters, or servants, friends, or neighbors? or* 
would it not make men more virtuous, and, consequently, 
more happy, in every situation ? 

7.] Page 49. Negation opposed to affirmation. 

1. True charity is not a meteor, which occasionally 
* The last or is disjunctive. 



Ex.7.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 175 

glares ; but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regular 
course, dispenses a benignant influence. 

2. The humble do not necessarily regard themselves 
as the unworthiest of all with whom they are acquainted 5 
but, while they acknowledge and admire in many, a de- 
gree of excellence which they have not attained, they 
perceive, even in those to whom they are in some respect 
superiors, much to praise, and much to imitate. 

3. Think not, that the influence of devotion is confin- 
ed to the retirement of the closet, and the assemblies of 
the saints. Imagine not, that, unconnected with the du- 
ties of life, it is suited only to those enraptured souls, 
whose feelings, perhaps, you deride as romantic and vis- 
ionary. It is the guardian of innocence — it is the instru- 
ment of virtue-— it is a mean by which every good affec- 
tion may be formed and improved. 

4. Caesar, who would not wait the conclusion of the 
consul's speech, generously replied, that he came into 
Italy not to injure the liberties of Rome and its citizens, 
but to restdre them. 

5. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
Father, Jesus Christ the righteous : and he is the propitia- 
tion for our sin ; and not for ours only, but also for the 
sins of the whole wbrld. 

6. It is not the business of virtue to extirpate the af- 
fections of the mind, but to regulate them. 

7. These things I say now, not to insult one who is 
fallen, but to render more secure those who stand ; not 
to irritate the hearts of the wounded, but to preserve those 
who are not yet wounded, in sound health ; not to sub- 
merge him who is tossed on the billows, but to instruct 



176 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8. 

those sailing before a propitious breeze, that they may 
not be plunged beneath the waves. 

8. But this is no time for a tribunal of justice, but for 
showing mercy ; not for accusation, but for philanthropy ; 
not for trial, but for pardon ; not for sentence and execu- 
tion, but compassion and kindness. 

8.] Page 49. Comparison and contrast. 

1. By honor, and dishonor; by evil report, and good 
report; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet 
well known ; as dying, and behold we live ; as chasten- 
ed, and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; 
as poor, yet making many rich ; as having nothing, and 
yet possessing all things. 

Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers ; 
for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteous- 
ness ; and what communion hath lfght with darkness? 
and what concord hath Christ with Belial ? or what part 
hath he that believeth with an infidel? 

2. The house of the wicked shall be overthrown ; 
but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish. There is a 
way which seemeth rfght unto a man ; but the end there- 
of are the ways of death. Even in laughter the heart is 
sorrowful ; and the end of that mirth is heaviness. A 
wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; but the fool 
rageth, and is confident. The wicked is driven away in 
his wickedness ; but the righteous hath hope in his death. 
Righteousness exalteth a nation ; but sin is a reproach to 
any people. The king's favor is toward a wise servant ; 
but his wrath is against him that causeth shame. 



Ex. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 177 

3. Between fame and true honor a distinction is to be 
made. The former is a blind and noisy applause : the 
latter a more silent and internal homage. Fame floats on 
the breath of the multitude : honor rests on the judgment 
of the thinking. Fame may give praise, while it withholds 
esteem ; true honor implies esteem, mingled with respect. 
The one regards particular distinguished talents : the oth- 
er looks up to the whole character. 

4. The most frightful disorders arose from the state of 
feudal anarchy. Force decided all things. Europe was 
one great field of battle, where the weak struggled for 
freedom, and the strong for dominion. The king was 
without power, and the nobles without principle. They 
were tyrants at home, and robbers abroad. Nothing re- 
mained to be a check upon ferocity and violence. 

5. These two qualities, delicacy and correctness, 
mutually imply each other. No taste can be exquisitely 
delicate without being correct ; nor can be thoroughly 
correct without being delicate. But still a predominancy 
of one or other quality in the mixture is often visible. 
The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in discerning the 
true merit of a work ; the power of correctness, in re- 
jecting false pretensions to merit. Delicacy leans more 
to feeling ; correctness more to reason and judgment. 
The former is more the gift of nature ; the latter, more 
the product of culture and art. Among the ancient crit- 
ics, Longinus possessed most delicacy; Aristotle, most 
correctness. Among the moderns, Mr. Addison is a 
high example of delicate taste ; Dean Swift, had he writ- 
ten on the subject of criticism, would perhaps have af- 
forded the example of a correct one, 



178 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8. 

6. Reason, eloquence, and every art which ever has 
been studied among mankind, may be abused, and may 
prove dangerous in the hands of bad men ; but it were 
perfectly childish to contend, that, upon this account, they 
ought to be abolished. 

7. To Bourdaloue, the French critics attribute more 
solidity and close reasoning ; to Massillon, a more pleas- 
ing and engaging manner. Bourdaloue is indeed a great 
reasoner, and inculcates his doctrines with much zeal, pi- 
ety, and earnestness : but his style is verbose, he is disa- 
greeably full of quotations from the Fathers, and he wants 
imagination. 

8. Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil, the better 
artist : in the one, we most admire the man ; in the oth- 
er, the work . Homer hurries us with a commanding im- 
petuosity ; Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. 
Homer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows 
with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the Nile, pours 
out his riches with a sudden overflow ; Virgil, like a river 
in its banks, with a constant stream. — And when we look 
upon their machines, Homer seems, like his own Jupiter 
in his terrors, shaking Olympus, scattering the lightnings, 
and firing the heavens ; Virgil, like the same power in 
his benevolence, counselling with the gods, laying plans 
for empires, and ordering his whole creation. 

9. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, 
and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden 
were formed by comprehensive speculation, those of Pope 
by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowl- 
edge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope. 

Poetry was not the sole praise of either ; for both ex- 



Ex. S/j EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 17§ 

celled likewise in prose : but Pope did not borrow his 
prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is 
capricious and varied ; that of Pope is cautious and uni- 
form. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mfnd ; 
Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. 
Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid ; Pope is al- 
ways smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a 
natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by 
the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation : Pope's 
is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by 
the roller. — Dryden's performances were always hasty : 
either excited by some external occasion, or extorted by 
domestic necessity : he composed without consideration, 
and published without correction. What his mind could 
supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he 
sought and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of 
Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to mul- 
tiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might 
produce, or chance might supply. If the flights of Dry- 
den, therefore, are higher, Pope continues longer on the 
wing. If of Dryden's fire, the blaze is brighter ; of 
Pope's, the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden 
often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below 
it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope 
with perpetual delight. 

10. Never before were so many opposing interests, 
passions, and principles, committed to such a decision. On 
one side an attachment to the ancient order of things, on 
the other a passionate desire of change ; a wish in some 
to perpetuate, in others to destroy every thing ; every 
abuse sacred in the eyes of the former, every foundation 



180 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8, 9. 

attempted to be demolished by the latter ; a jealousy of 
power shrinking from the slightest innovation, pretensions 
to freedom pushed to madness and anarchy ; superstition 
in all its dotage, impiety in all its fury ; whatever, in short, 
could be found most discordant in the principles, or vio- 
lent in the passions of men, were the fearful ingredients 
which the hand of Divine justice selected to mingle in 
this furnace of wrath. 

9.] Page 51. The pause of suspension requires the ris- 
ing slide. 

In the Analysis, several kinds of sentences are classed, to which 
this rule applies. But as the principle is the same in all, no dis- 
tinction is necessary in the Exercises. 

1 . Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius 
Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Her- 
od being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip te- 
trarch of Iturea and of the region of Trachonitis, and Ly- 
sanias the tetrarch of Abilene, Annas and Caiaphas being 
the high priests, the word of God came unto John the 
son of Zacharias in the wilderness. 

2. For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but 
cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of 
darkness, to be reserved unto judgment ; And spared not 
the old world, but saved Noah the eighth person, a preach- 
er of righteousness, bringing in the flood upon the world 
of the ungodly ; And turning the cities of Sodom and 
Gomorrah into ashes, condemned them with an overthrow, 
making them an ensample unto those that after should live 
ungodly ; And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy 



EX. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 181 

conversation of the wicked : (For that righteous marl 
dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his 
righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds;) 
The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temp- 
tations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judg- 
ment to be punished. 

3. I am content to wave the argument I might draw 
from hence in favor of my client, whose destiny was so 
peculiar, that he could not secure his own safety, without 
securing yours and that of the republic at the same time. 
If he could not do it lawfully, there is no room for at- 
tempting his defence. But if reason teaches the learned, 
necessity the Barbarian, common custom all nations in 
general; and if even nature itself instructs the brutes to 
defend their bodies, limbs, and lives, when attacked, by 
all possible methods ; you cannot pronounce this action 
criminal, without determining at trie same time that who- 
ever falls into the hands of a highwayman, must of neces- 
sity perish either by his sword or your decisions. Had 
Milo been of this opinion, he would certainly have cho- 
sen to fall by the hand of Clodius, who had more than 
once, before this, made an attempt upon his lffe, rather 
than be executed by your order, because he had not 
tamely yielded himself a victim to his rage. But if none 
of you are of this opinion, the proper question is, not 
whether Clodius was killed ? for that we grant : but 
whether justly or unjustly ? an inquiry of which many 
precedents are to be found. 

4. Seeing then that the soul has many different facul- 
ties, or in other words, many different ways of acting ; 
that it can be intensely pleased or made happy by all 
1G 



182 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 0. 

these different faculties, or ways of acting ; that it may be 
endowed with several latent faculties, which it is not at 
present in a condition to exert ; that we cannot believe 
the soul is endowed with any faculty which is of no use to 
it ; that whenever any one of these faculties is transcend- 
ently pleased, the soul is in a state of happiness ; and in 
the last place, considering that the happiness of another 
world is to be the happiness of the whole man ; who can 
question but that there is an infinite variety in those pleas- 
ures we are speaking of; and that this fulness of joy will 
be made up of all those pleasures which the nature of the 
soul is capable of receiving ? 

5. When the gay and smiling aspect of things has be- 
gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus thought- 
lessly unguarded ; when kind and caressing looks of eve- 
ry object without, that can flatter his senses, have conspired 
with the enemy within, to betray him and put him off his 
defence ; when music likewise hath lent her aid, and tri- 
ed her power upon the passions ; when the voice of sing- 
ing men, and the voice of singing women, with the sound 
of the viol and the lute, have broke in upon his soul, and 
in some tender notes have touched the secret springs of 
rapture, — that moment let us dissect and look into his 
heart; see how vain, how weak, how empty a thing it 
is! 

6. Beside the ignorance of masters who teach the 
first rudiments of reading, and the want of skill or negli- 
gence in that article, of those who teach the learned lan- 
guages; beside the erroneous manner, which the untu- 
tored pupils fall into, through the want of early attention 
in masters, to correct small faults in the beginning, which 



Ex. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 183 

increase and gain strength with years ; beside bad habits 
contracted from imitation of particular persons, or the 
contagion of example, from a general prevalence, of a 
certain tone or chant in reading or reciting, peculiar to 
each school, and regularly transmitted from one genera- 
tion of boys to another : beside all these, which are fruit- 
ful sources of vicious elocution, there is one fundamental 
error, in the method universally used in teaching to read, 
which at first gives a wrong bias, and leads us ever after 
blindfold from the right path, under the guidance of a 
false rfile. 

7. The bounding of Satan over the walls of paradise, 
his sitting in the shape of a cormorant upon the tree of 
life, which stood in the centre of it, and overtopped all 
the other trees in the garden ; his alighting among the 
herd of animals, which are so beautifully represented as 
playing about Adam and E've, together with his trans- 
forming himself into different shapes, in order to hear their 
conversation, are circumstances, that give an agreeable 
surprise to the reader, and are devised with great art, to 
connect that series of adventures, in which the poet has 
engaged this artifice of fraud. 

8. To find the nearest way from truth to truth ; or 
from purpose to effect : not to use more instruments where 
fewer will be sufficient ; not to move by wheels and lev- 
ers, what will give way to the naked hand, is the great 
proof of a healthful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with 
helpless ignorance nor overburdened with unwieldy knowl- 
edge. 

9. A guilty or a discontented mind, a mind, ruffled 
by ill fortune, diconcerted by its own passions, soured 



I 



184 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 

by neglect, or fretting at disappointments, hath no leisure 
to attend to the necessity or reasonableness of a kindness 
desired, nor a taste for those pleasures which wait on be- 
neficence, which demand a calm and unpolluted heart to 
relish them. 

10. "I perfectly remember that when Calidius prose- 
cuted Q. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and pre- 
tended that he had the plainest proofs of it, and could 
"produce many letters, witnesses, informations, and other 
evidences to put the truth of his charge beyond a doubt, 
interspersing many sensible and ingenious remarks on the 
nature of the crime ; I remember," says Cicero, " that 
when it came to my turn to reply to him, after urging ev- 
ery argument which the case itself suggested, I insisted 
upon it as a material circumstance in favor of my client, 
that the prosecutor, while he charged him with a design 
against his life, and assured us that he bad the most in- 
dubitable proof of it then in his hands, related his story 
with as much ease, and as much calmness and indiffer- 
ence, as if nothing had happened." — " Would it have 
been possible," exclaimed Cicero, (addressing himself to 
Calidius,) " that you should speak with this air of uncon- 
cern, unless the charge w T as purely an invention of your 
own ? — and, above all, that you, whose eloquence has of- 
ten vindicated the wrongs of other people with so much 
spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which threaten- 
ed your life ?" 

11. France and England may each of them have 
a some reason to dread the increase of the naval and mili- 
tary power of the other ; but for either of them to en- 
vy the internal happiness and prosperity of the other, 



Ex. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 185 

the cultivation of its lands, the advancement of its man- 
ufactures, the increase of its commerce, the security and 
number of its ports and harbors, its proficiency in all the 
liberal arts and sciences, is surely beneath the dignity of 
two such great nations. 

12. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own 
hearts and characters, to restrain every irregular inclina- 
tion, — -to subdue every rebellious passion, — to purify the 
motives of our conduct, — to form ourselves to that tem- 
perance which no pleasure can seduce, — -to that meekness 
which no provocation can ruffle, — to that patience which 
no affliction can overwhelm, and that integrity which no 
interest can shake ; this is the task which is assigned to 
us, — a task which cannot be performed without the ut- 
most diligence and care. 

13. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a mountain, 
the ornament of a building, the expression of a picture, 
the composition of a discourse, the conduct of a third 
person, the proportion of different quantities and num- 
bers, the various appearances which the great machine 
of the universe is perpetually exhibiting, the secret wheels 
and springs which produce them, all the general subjects 
of science and taste, are what we and our companions re- 
gard as having no peculiar relation to either of us. 

14. Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, 
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, 
View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
5 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer ; 
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
10* 



186 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 

Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike ; 

Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, 

A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend ; 

Dreading even fools, by Flatterers besieg'd, 
10 And so obliging, that he ne'er oblfg'd ; 

Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 

And sit attentive to his own applause ; 

While Wits and Templars every sentence raise, 

And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 
15 Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ? 

Who would not weep, if 'Atticus were he ! 

15. For these reasons, the senate and people of Ath- 
ens, (with due veneration to the gods and heroes, and 
guardians of the Athenian city and territory, whose aid 
they now implore ; and with due attention to the virtue 
of their ancestors, to whom the general liberty of Greece 
was ever dearer than the particular interest of their own 
state) have resolved that a fleet of two hundred vessels 
shall be sent to sea, the admiral to cruise within the 
straits of Thermopylae. 

As to my own abilities in speaking, (for I shall admit 
this charge, although experience hath convinced me, that 
what is called the power of eloquence depends for the 
most part upon the hearers, and that the characters of 
public speakers are determined by the degree of favor 
which you vouchsafe to each,) if long practice, I say, 
hath given me any proficiency in speaking, you have ever 
found it devoted to my country.* 

* I have not thought it necessary to give examples of the cases 
in which emphasis requires the falling slide at the close of a paren- 
thesis^ 



Ex. 10.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 187 

Of the various exceptions which fall under the rule of suspend- 
ing inflection, the only one which needs additional exemplification, 
is that, where emphasis requires the intensive falling slide, to ex- 
press the true sense. See p. 53, bottom. In some cases of this 
sort, the omission of the falling slide only weakens the meaning ; 
in others it subverts it. 

1. If the population of this country were to remain 
stationary, a great increase of effort would be necessary 
to supply each family with a Bfble ; how much more 
when this population is increasing every day. 

2. The man who cherishes a strong ambition for pre- 
ferment, if he does not fall into adulation and servility, is 
in danger of losing all manly independence. 

3. For if the mighty works which have been done in 
thee had been done in Sddom* it would have remained 
unto this day. 

10.] Page 54. Tender emotion inclines the voice to the 
rising slide. 

1 . And when Joseph came home, they brought him 
the present which was in their hand into the house, and 
bowed themselves to him to the earth. — And he asked 
them of their welfare, and said, Is your father well, the 
old man of whom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ? — And 
they answered, thy servant our father is in good health, 
he is yet alive : and they bowed down their heads, and 
made obeisance. — And he lifted^ up his eyes, and saw his 
brother Benjamin, his mother's sdn, and said, Is this your 
younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me ? And he 
said, God be gracious unto thee, my son. — And Joseph 
made haste ; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother : 

* Even in Sodom, is the paraphrase of this emphasis, and so 
in the two preceding examples. 



188 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 10. 

and he sought where to weep; and he entered into his 
chamber, and wept there. 

2. Methinks I see a fair and lovely chfld^ 
Sitting compos'd upon his mother's knee, 
And reading with a low and lisping voice 

Some passage from the Sabbath ;* while the tears 
5 Stand in his little eyes so softly blue, 

Till, quite o'ercome with pity, his white arms 
He twines around her neck, and hides his sighs 
Most infantine, within her gladden'd breast, 
Like a sweet lamb, half sportive, half afraid, 

10 Nestling one moment 'neath its bleating dam. 
And now the happy mother kisses oft 
The tender-hearted child, lays down the book, 
And asks him if he doth remember still 
A stranger who once gave him, long ago, 

15 A parting kiss, and blest his laughing eyes ? 

His sobs speak fond remembrance, and he weeps 
To think so kind and good a man should die. 

3. Ye who have anxiously and fondly watched 
Beside a fading friend, unconscious still 

The cheek's bright crimson, lovely to the view, 
Like nightshade, with unwholesome beauty bloomed, 
5 And that the sufferer's bright dilated eye, 
Like mouldering wood, owes to decay alone 
Its wond'rous lustre : — ye who still have hoped, 
Even in death's dread presence, but at length 
Have heard the summons, (O heart-freezing call !) 
10 To pay the last sad duties, and to hear 
Upon the silent dwelling's narrow lid 

* Sabbath, — a poem. 



Ex. 11, 12.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 189 

The first earth thrown, (sound deadliest to the soul ! — 
For, strange delusion ! then, and then alone, 
Hope seems forever fled, and the dread pang 
15 Of final separation to begin) — 

Ye who have felt, all this — O pay my verse 
The mournful meed of sympathy, and own, 
Own with a sigh, the sombre picture's just. 

11.] Page 55. This requires no additional illustration ; 
for unless emphasis forbids it, every good reader has 
so much regard to harmony, as to use the rising slide 
at the pause before the cadence. 

12.] Page 56. The indirect question and its answer have 
the falling inflection. 

The interrogative mark is here inverted, to render it significant 
of its office, in distinction from the direct question, which turns the 
voice upward. The reason of this is so obvious, that I trust it will 
not be regarded, in a work like this, as an affectation of singularity 
in trifles. 

1. The governor answered and said unto them, 
Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you i 
They said, Barabbas. Pilate saith unto them, What 
shall I do then with Jesus, which is called Christ <; They 
all say unto him, Let him be crucified. And the govern- 
or said, Why ; what evil hath he done<: But they cri- 
ed out the more, saying, Let him be crucified. 

2. Where now is the splendid robe of the consulate i 
Where are the brilliant torches <: Where are the ap- 
plauses and dances, the feasts and entertainments ■{ 
Where are the coronets and canopies <: Where the huz- 
zas of the city, the compliments of the circus, and th@ 



190 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 12. 

flattering acclamations of the spectators ^ All these have 
perished. 

3. I hold it to be an unquestionable position, that they 
who duly appreciate the blessings of liberty, revolt as much 
from the idea of exercising, as from that of enduring, op- 
pression. How far this was the case with the Romans, 
you may inquire of those nations that surrounded them. 
Ask them, 'What insolent guard paraded before their 
gates, and invested their strong holds <;' They will an- 
swer, ' A Roman legionary.' Demand of them, ' What 
greedy extortioner fattened by their poverty, and clothed 
himself by their nakedness <:' They will inform you, * A 
Roman Quaestor.' Inquire of them, * What imperious 
stranger issued to them his mandates of imprisonment or 
confiscation, of banishment or death,;' They will reply 
to you, l A Roman Consul.' Question them, ' What 
haughty conqueror led through his city, their nobles and 
kings in chains ; and exhibited their countrymen, by 
thousands, in gladiators' shows for the amusement of his fel- 
low citizens <;' They will tell you, ' A Roman General.' 
Require of them, ' What tyrants imposed the heaviest 
yoke i — enforced the most rigorous exactions <; — inflicted 
the most savage punishment, and showed the greatest 
gust for blood and torture <;' They will exclaim to you, 
The Roman people.' 

4. Let us now consider the principal point, whether 
the place where they encountered was most favorable to 
Milo, or to Clodius. Were the affair to be represented 
only by painting, instead of being expressed by words, it 
would even then clearly appear which was the traitor, 
arid which was free from all mischievous designs. When 



Ex. 12.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION". 191 

the one was sitting in his chariot muffled up in his cloak, 
and his wife along with him ; which of these circum- 
stances was not a very great incumbrance i the dress, the 
chariot, or the companion ± How could he be worse 
equipped for an engagement, when he was wrapt up in a 
cloak, embarrassed with a chariot and almost fettered by 
his wife ^ Observe the other now, in the first place, sal- 
lying out on a sudden from his seat ; for what reason ,; 
— in the evening ; what urged him ,; — late ; to what pur- 
pose, especially at that season <; — He calls at Pompey's 
seat; with what view,: To see Pompey ? He knew he 
was at \Alsium. — To see his house? He had been in it 
a thousand times — What then could be the reason of this 
loitering and shifting about ^ He wanted to be upon the 
spot when Milo came up. 

5. Wherefore cease we then ,; 
Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, 
Reserved, and destin'd, to eternal w5e ; 
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
5 What can we suffer worse <; Is this then worst, 
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 
What ! when we fled amain, pursued and struck 
With Heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 
The deep to shelter us — this Hell then seem'd 

10 A refuge from those wounds : or when we lay 
Chain'd on the burning lake, — that sure was worse. 
What, if the breath, that kindled those grim fires, 
Awak'd, should blow them into sev'nfold rage, 
And plunge us in the flames <; or from above 

15 Should intermitted vengeance arm again 



193 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 12. 

His red right-hand to plague us <; what if all 
Her stores were open'd, and this firmament 
Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 
Impendent horrors, tbreat'ning hideous fall 

20 One day upon our heads j while we perhaps, 
Designing or exhorting glorious war, 
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'd, 
. Each on his rock transfix'd, the prey 
Of wracking whirlwinds ; or forever sunk 

25 Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; 
There to converse with everlasting groans, 
Unrespited, un pitied, unreprfev'd, 
Ages of hopeless end ! This would be worse. 






6. But, first, whom shall we send 
In search of this new world i whom shall we find 
Sufficient i who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 
5 And through the palpable obscure find out 
His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, 
Upborne with indefatigable wings, 
Over the vast abrupt, ere be arrive 
The happy isle <f what strength, what art, can then 

10 Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 

Through the strict senteries and stations thick 
Of 'Angels watching round <; Here he had need 
All circumspection, and we now no less 
Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send 

15 The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. 



Ex. 13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 193 

13.] Page 57. Language of authority and of surprise 
commonly requires the falling inflection. Denuncia- 
tion, reprehension fyc. come under this head. 

1. Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, 
and be wise :• — which having no guide, overseer, or rul- 
er, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth 
her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O 
sluggard ? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep ?-*• 
Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the 
hands to sleep : — So shall thy poverty come as one that 
travelleth, and thy want as an armed man. 

2. And when the king came in to see the guests, he 
saw there a man that had not on a wedding-garment : — 
And he saith unto him, friend, how earnest thou in hither, 
not having a wedding-garment ? And he was speechless. 
■ — Then said the king to the servants, bind him, hand and 
foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer dark- 
ness : there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 

3. Then he which had received the one talent came, 
and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art a hard man, 
reaping where thou hast not sown, and gathering where 
thou hast not strewed : — And I was afraid, and went 
and hid thy talent in the earth : lo, there thou hast that is 
thine.- — His lord answered and said unto him, thou wick- 
ed and slothful servant, — thou knewest that I reap where 
I sowed not,* and gather where I have not strewed : — 
Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the 



* This clause uttered with a high note and the falling slide, 
expresses censure better with the common punctuation, than if it 
were marked with the interrogation. 

17 



194 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13, 

exchangers, and then at my coming I should have re- 
ceived mine own with usury. — Take therefore the talent 
from him, and give it unto him which hath ten talents. — 
And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness : 
there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 

4. Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein most 
of his mighty works were done, because they repented 
not. — Wo unto thee, Chorazin ! wo unto thee, Beth- 
saida ! for if the mighty works which were done in you 
had been done in Tyre and Sidon,* they would have re- 
pented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. — But 1 say unto 
you, It shmll be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the 
day of Judgment than for you. — And thou, Capernaum, 
which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to 
hell ; for if the mighty works which have been done in 
thee, had been done in Sodom, it would have remained 
until this day. — But I say unto you, That it shall be more 
tolerable for the land of Sodom, in the day of judgment, 
than for thee. 

5. Such, Sir, was once the disposition of a people, 
who now surround your throne with reproaches and com- 
plaints. Do justice to yourself. Banish from your mind 
those unworthy opinions, with which some interested per- 
sons have labored to possess you. Distrust the men 
who tell you that the English are naturally light and in- 
constant ; that they complain without a cause. With- 
draw your confidence equally from all parties ; from min- 
isters, favorites, and relations ; and let there be one mo- 
ment in your life, in which you have consulted your own 
understanding. 

* Even in Tyre and Sidon, is the paraphrase of the emphasis. 



Ex. 13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 195 

6. You have done that, you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 

For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 

That they pass by me, as the idle wind, 
5 Which I respect not. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; — 

For I can raise no money by vile means ; 

—I had rather coin my heart, 

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
10 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, 

By any indirection. I did send 

To you for gold to pay my legions, 

Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius ? 

Should /have answer'd Caius Cassius so ? 
15 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 

To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 

Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 

Dash him to pieces ! 

7. The war, that for a space did fail, 
Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 

And — Stanley ! was the cry : — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye : 
With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! 
Charge, Chester, charge ! on, Stanley, on !" 
Were the last words of Marmion ! 

8. So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrath, 



196 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13. 

Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight, 
Sev'nfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell, 
Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 
5 Can equal anger infinite provok'd. 

But wherefore thou alone ? wherefore wjth thee 
Came not all Hell broke loose ? is pain to them 
Less pain, less to be fled? or thou than they 
Less hardy to endure ? Courageous Chief! 
10 The first in flight from pain ! — hadst thou alttg'd 
To thy deserted host this cause of flight, 
Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. 

9. To whom the warrior Angel soon reply'd. 

To say, and straight unsay, pretending first 

Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 

Argues no leader, but a liar, trac'd, 
5 Satan ! — and couldst thou faithful add ? O name, 

O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd ! 

Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew ? 

Army of Fiends ! — fit body to fit head ! 

Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, 
10 Your military obedience, to dissolve 

Allegiance to th' acknowledg'd Pow'r supreme ? 

And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 

Patron of liberty, who more than thou 

Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
15 HeavVs awful Monarch ? wherefore, but in hope 

To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ; 

But mark what I areed thee now ; — Avaunt : 

Fly thither whence thou fled'st : if from this hour, 

Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 
20 Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chain 'd, 



Ex. 13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 197 

And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 
The facile gates of Hell too slightly barr'd. 

Apostrophe and exclamation, as well as the imperative mode, 
when accompanied by emphasis, incline the voice to the falling 
inflection. 

10. Oh! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, 

The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes ! 

Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, 

Ft is a dread and awful thing to die ! 

5 Mysterious worlds ! untravell'd by the sun, 

Where Time's far wandering tide has never run, 

From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, 

A warning comes, unheard by other ears — 

'Tis heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, 

10 Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud ! 
Daughter of Faith, awake I arise ! illume 
The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb ! 
Melt, and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that roll 
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul ! 

] 5 Fly\ like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, 
Chased on his night-steed, by the star of day ! 
The strife is o'er ! — the pangs of nature close, 
And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes ! 
Hark ! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze, 

20 The noon of heaven, undazzled by the blaze, 
On heavenly winds that waft her to the sky, 
Float the sweet tones of star-born melody ; 
Wild as the hallow'd anthem sent to hail 
Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, 

25 When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 
Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill ! 
17* 



198 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13. 

11. Piety has found 

Friends, in the friends of science, and true prayer 
Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
Such was thy wisdom, Neivton, child-like sage ! 
5 Sagacious reader of the Works of God, 
And in his Word sagacious. Such too thine, 
Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, 
And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom 
Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 
10 Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment prais'd, 
And sound integrity, not more, than fam'd 
For sanctity of manners undefil'd. 

12. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! 
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns 
5 To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
'Angels ; for ye behold him, and with songs 

10 And choral symphonies, day without night, 
Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in Heaven, 
On earth, join all ye creatures to extol 
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 

15 If better thou belong not to the dawn, 

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 



Ex.14.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 199 

Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 

20 Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, 
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. 
Moon, that now rneet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st, 
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 

25 And ye five other wand'ring Fires, that move 
In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. 
Air, and ye 'Elements, the eldest birth 
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

30 Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix, 

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 
Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 

35 With every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, 
Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise. 
Join voices all, ye living Souls : ye Birds, 
That singing up to Heav'n gate ascend, 

40 Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise. 

14.] Page 60. Emphatic succession of particulars re- 
quires the falling slide. 

Note 3, page 61, should be examined before reading this class of 
Exercises. 

1. He answered and said unto them, He that soweth the 
good seed is the Son of man ; — the field is the world ; 
the good seed are the children of the kingdom : but the 
tares are the children of the wicked one ; — the enemy 



200 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 14. 

that sowed them is the devil ; the harvest is the end of 
the world ; and the reapers are the angels. 

2. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wis- 
dom ; to another, the word of knowledge, by the same 
Spirit ; — to another, faith, by the same Spirit ; to anoth- 
er, the gifts of healing, by the same Spirit ; — to another, 
the working of miracles ; to another, prophecy ; to an- 
other, discerning of spirits ; to another, divers kinds of 
tongues ; to another, the interpretation of tongues. 

3. Rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing : — in eve- 
ry thing give thanks : for this is the will of God in Christ 
Jesus concerning you. — Quench not the Spirit : — Despise 
not prophesy in gs. — Prove all things ; hold fast that which 
is good. 

4. As virtue is the most reasonable and genuine 
source of honor, we generally find in titles, an imita- 
tion of some particular merit, that should recommend men 
to the high stations which they possess. Holiness is as- 
cribed to the Pope 5 majesty, to kings ; serenity, or mild- 
ness of temper, to princes; excellence, or perfection, to 
ambassadors ; grace, to archbishops ; honor, to peers ; 
worship, or venerable behavior, to magistrates; and 
reverence, which is of the same import as the former, to 
the inferior clergy. 

5. It pleases me to think that I, who know so small a 
portion of the works of the Creator, and with slow and 
painful steps, creep up and down on the surface of this 
globe, shall, ere long, shoot away with the swiftness of 
imagination ; trace out the hidden springs of nature's op- 
erations ; be able to keep pace with the heavenly bodies 
in the rapidity of their career ; be a spectator of the long 



Ex. 14.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 201 

chain of events in the natural and moral worlds ; visit the 
several apartments of creation ; know how they are fur- 
nished and how inhabited ; comprehend the order and 
measure, the magnitude and distances of those orbs, 
which, to us, seem disposed without any regular design, 
and set all in the same circle ; observe the dependence 
of the parts of each s ystem ; and (if our minds are big 
enough) grasp the theory of the several systems upon 
one another, from whence results .the harmony of the 
universe. 

6. He who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from 
society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a 
multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, who makes appoint- 
ments he never keeps — to the consulter, who asks advice 
he never takes — to the boaster, who blusters only to be 
praised — to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied 
— >to the projector, whose happiness is only to entertain 
his friends with expectations, which all but himself know 
to be vain — to the economist, who tells of bargains and 
settlements — to the politician, who predicts the fate of 
battles and breach of alliances — to the usurer, who com- 
pares the different funds — and to the talker, who talks 
only because he loves talking. 

7. That a man, to whom he was, in great measure, 
beholden for his crown, and even for his life ; a man to 
whom, by every honor and favor, he had endeavor- 
ed to express his gratitude ; whose brother, the earl of 
Derby, was his own father-in-law; to whom he had even 
committed the trust of his person, by creating him lord 
chamberlain; tha"t a man enjoying his full confidence 
and affection ; not actuated by any motive of discontent 



202 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 14. 

or apprehension ; that this man should engage in a con- 
spiracy against him, he deemed absolutely false and in- 
credible. 

8. I would fain ask one of those bigoted infidels, sup- 
posing all the great points of atheism, as the casual or eter- 
nal formation of the world, the materiality of a thinking 
substance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organi- 
zation of the body, the motion and gravitation of matter, 
with the like particulars, were laid together, and formed 
into a kind of creed, according to the opinions of the most 
celebrated atheists ; I say, supposing such a creed as this 
were formed, and imposed upon any one people in the 
world, whether it would not require an infinitely greater 
measure of faith, than any set of articles which they so 
violently oppose. 

9. I conjure you by that which you profess, 
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me ; 
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight 
Against the churches ; though the yesty waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up ; 
Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down ; 
Though castles topple on their warders' heads ; 
Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
Of nature's germins tumble altogether, 
Ev'n till destruction sicken, answer me 
To what T ask you. 

This last example is the one which was promised at page 40, 
of the Analysis, to be inserted in the Exercises, as exhibiting by 
the notation something of Garrick's manner in pronouncing the pas- 
sage. To make this more intelligible, I add here Walker's remarks 
accompanying this example, which were alluded to at page 40. 



Ex.15.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 203 

" By placing the falling inflection, without dropping the voice 
cm each particular, and giving this inflection a degree of emphasis, 
increasing from the first member to the sixth, we shall find the 
whole climax wonderfully enforced and diversified : this was the 
method approved and practised by the inimitable Mr. Garrick ; and 
though it is possible that a very good actor may vary >n some par- 
ticulars from the rule, and yet pronounce the whole agreeably, it 
may with confidence be asserted that no actor can pronounce this 
passage to so much advantage as by adopting the inflections laid 
down in this rule." 

15.] Page 62. Emphatic repetition requires the falling 
inflection ; though the principle of the suspending 
slide, or of the interrogative, may form an exception, 

1. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took 
the knife to slay his son. — And the angel of the Lohd 
called unto him out of heaven, and said, 'Abraham, 
Abraham. And he said, Here am I. 

2. And the king was much moved, and went up to 
the chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, 
thus he said, O my son 'Absalom, my son, my son 'Ab- 
salom ! would God I had died for thee, O 'Absalom, my 
s6n, my son ! 

3. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the proph- 
ets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how of- 
ten would I have gathered thy children together, even as 
a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye 
would not ! 

4. But the subject is too awful for irony. I will 
speak plainly and directly. Newton was a Christian 1 
JY&wton, whose mind burst forth from the fetters cast by 
nature upon our finite conceptions — Neivton, whose sci- 
ence was truth, and the foundation of whose knowledge 
of it was philosophy : not those visionary and arrogant 






204 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION, [Ex. 1 5. 

presumptions, which too often usurp its name, but philos- 
ophy resting upon the basis of mathematics, which, like 
figures, cannot lie — Newton, who carried the line and 
rule to the utmost barriers of creation, and explored the 
principles by which, no doubt, all created matter is held 
together and exists. 

5. To die, they say, is noble — as a soldier — 
But with such guides to point th' unerring road, 
Such able guides, such arms and discipline 
As I have had, my soul would sorely feel 
5 The dreadful pang which keen reflections give, 

Should she in death's dark porch, while life was ebbing, 
Receive the judgment, and the vile reproach : — 
" Long hast thou wander'd in a stranger's land, 
A stranger to thyself and to thy God ; 

10 The heavenly hills were oft within thy view, 
And oft the shepherd call'd thee to his flock, 
And call'd in vain. — A thousand monitors 
Bade thee return, and walk in wisdom's w^ays. 
The seasons, as they roll'd, bade thee return ; 

15 The glorious sun, in his diurnal round, 

Beheld thy wandering, and bade thee return ; 
The night, an emblem of the night of death, 
Bade thee return ; the rising mounds, 
Which told the traveller where the dead repose 

20 In tenements of clay, bade thee return ; 
And at thy father's grave, the filial tear, 
Which dear remembrance gave, bade thee return, 
And dwell in Virtue's tents, on Zion's hill ! 
— Here thy career be stay'd, rebellious man ! 



A 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 205 

25 .Long hast thou liv'd a cumberer of the ground. 
Millions are shipwreck'd on life's stormy coast, 
With all their charts on board, and powerful aid, 
Because their lofty pride disdain'd to learn 
Th' instructions of a pilot, and a God." 

16, 17, 18.] Page 63 to 66. On Cadence, Circumflex, 
and Accent, no additional illustrations seem to be re- 
quired in the Exercises. 

19, 20, 21, 22.] Page 71 to 80. It was necessary in the 
Analysis to examine and exemplify at some length, the 
difference between emphatic stress, and emphatic inflec- 
tion, and also between absolute and relative stress. 
The examples, however, illustrating these distinctions, 
must generally be taken from single sentences and claus- 
es. But as I wish here to introduce such passages 
as have considerable length, I have concluded to ar- 
range them all under the general head of Emphasis, 
leaving the reader to class particular instances of stress, 
and inflection, according to the principles laid down in 
the Analysis. 

1. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear ? he 
that formed the eye, shall he not see ? — he that chastis- 
eth the heathen, shall not he correct ? he that teacheth 
man knowledge, shall not he know ? 

2. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judg- 
ment with the men of this generation, and condemn them : 
for she came from the utmost parts of the earth, to hear 
the wisdom of Solomon : and behold, a greater than Sol- 
omon is here. — The men of Nineveh shall rise up in the 

18 



206 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22, 

judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it : for 
they repented at the preaching of Jdnas ; and behold, a 
greater than Jonas is here. 

3. But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This 
fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Beelzebub the prince 
of the devils. 2 And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said 
unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself, is brought 
to desolation ; and every city or house divided against it- 
self shall not stand. 3 And if Satan cast out Satan, he is 
divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand ? 
And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your 
children cast them out? therefore they shall be your 
judges. But if I cast out devils by the Spirit of God, 
then the kingdom of God is come unto you. 4 Or else 
how can one enter into a strong man's house, and spoil 
his goods, except he first bind the strong man ? and then 
he will spoil his house. 

4. And behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempt- 
ed him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal 
life? 2 He said unto him, What is written in the law? 
how readest thou ? 3 And he answering said, Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; 
and thy neighbor as thyself. 4 And he said unto him, 
Thou hast answered right : this do, and thou shalt live. 
— But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And 
who is my neighbor? 5 And Jesus answering, said, A 
certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and 
fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and 
wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. 6 And 
by chance there came down a certain priest that way; 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 207 

and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.— 
And likewise a L&vite, when he was at the place, came 
and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 7 But 
a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was : 
and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,— and 
w&nt to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and 
wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to 
an inn, and took care of him. 8 And on the morrow, when 
he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to 
the host, and said unto him, Take c&re of him : and what- 
soever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will re- 
pay thee. 9 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was 
neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves ? — And he 
said, He that shewed mlrcy on him. Then said Jesus 
unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. 

5. As to those public works, so much the object of 
your ridicule, they, undoubtedly, demand a due share of 
honor and applause ; but I rate them far beneath the 
great merit of my administration. It is not with stones 
nor bricks that '/have fortified the city. It is not from 
works like these that '/ derive my reputation. Would 
you know my methods of fortifying ? Examine, and you 
will find them in the arms, the towns, the territories, the 
harbors I have secured ; the navies, the troops, the ar- 
mies I have raised. 

6. For if you now pronounce, that, as my public 
conduct hath not been right, Ctesiphon must stand con- 
demned, it must be thought that yourselves have acted 
wrong, not that you owe your present state to the caprice 
of fortune. But it cannot hi. JVd, my countrymen ! It 
cannot be you have acted wrong, in encountering danger 



208 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

bravely, for- the liberty and safety of all Greece. Nd ! 
By those generous souls of ancient times, who were ex- 
posed at Marathon ! By those who stood arrayed at 
Platea ! By those who encountered the Persian fleet at 
Sctlamis ! who fought at Artemlsium ! By all those il- 
lustrious sons of Athens, whose remains lie deposited in 
the public monuments ! y Jill of whom received the same 
honorable interment from their country : Not those only 
who prevailed, not those only who were victorious. And 
with reason. What was the part of gallant men they 
all performed ; their success was such as the Supreme 
Director of the world dispensed to each. 

7. Like other tyrants, death delights to smite, 

What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of pow'r, 

And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 

To bid the wretch survive the fdrtunate ; 
5 The feeble wrap the athletic in his shroud : 

And weeping fathers build their children's tomb : 

Me thine, Narcissa ! — What though short thy date ? 

Virtue not rolling suns, the mind matures. 

That life is long, which answers life's great end. 
10 The tree that bears no fruit, deserves no name; 

The man of wisdom, is the man of years. 

Narcissa's youth has lectur'd me thus far. 

And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 

That, like the Jews' fam'd oracle of gems, 
15 Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light, 

And opens more the character of death ; 

111 known to thee, Lorenzo ! This thy vaunt : 

"Give death his due, the wretched, and the did ; 

" Let him not violate kind nature's laws, 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 209 

" But own man born to live as well as die." 
Wretched and old thou giv'st him ; young and gay- 
He takes; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 
* Fortune, with youth and gaiety, conspir'd 
5 To weave a tripple wreath of happiness, 
(If happiness on earth,) to crown her brow; 
And could death charge through such a shining shield ? 
That shining shield invites the tyrant's spear, 
As if to damp our elevated aims, 

10 And strongly preach humility to man. 
O how portentous is prosperity ! 
How, comet-like, it threatens, while it shines ! 
Few years but yield us proof of death's ambition, 
To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 

1 5 And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er 
With recent honors, bloom'd with evhy bliss, 
Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
The gaudy centre, of the public eye, 

20 When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 

Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 

How often have I seen him drbpp'd at once, 

Our morning's envy ! and our ev'ning's sigh ! 

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 

25 A blow, which, while it executes, alarms ; 
And startles thousands with a single fall, 
(o) As when some stately growth of oak or pine, 
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade, 
The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence ; 



+ In this place, and in many others, the connexion of the author is brokon in the 
selections, without notice. 

IS* 



210 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. {Ex. 19-22. 

By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd, 
Loud groans her last, and rushing from her height, 
In cumb'rous ruin, thunders to the ground : 
The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 
5 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound.* 

Young. 
8. Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 

Our boast but ill deserve. 

If these alone 



Assist our flight, fame's flight \s glory's fall. 
10 Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 

Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 

A celebrated wretch when I behold, 

When I behold a genius bright, and base, 

Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims ; 
15 Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 

The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 

With rubbish mixt, and glittering in the dust. 

Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight, 

At once compassion soft, and envy rise 

20 But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright, 

If wanting worth, are shining instruments 

In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 

Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 

Great ill is an achievement of great pdw'rs. 
25 Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 

Means have no merit, if our hid amiss. 

Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 

Right ends, and means, make wisdom : Worldly-wise 

Is but AaZ/^witted, at its highest praise. 

* In all the following Exercises, the sign of transition and other 
marks of modulation are occasionally used. 






V 






Ex. 19-22] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 211 

Let genius then despair to make thee great ; 

Nor natter station : What is station high ? 

'Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts and begs ; 

It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 
5 And oft the throng denies its charity. 

Monarchs and ministers, are awful names ; 

Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 

Religion, public order, both exact 

External homage, and a supple knee, 
1 To beings pompously set up, to serve 

The meanest slave ; all more is merit's due, 

Her sacred and inviolable right, 

Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 

Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior wdrth ; 
15 Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 

Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, 

And vote the mantle into majesty. 

Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 

His royal robe unborrow'd and unbought, 
20 His dwn, descending fairly from his sires. 

Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 

And souls in ermine scorn a soul without ? 

Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize? 

Pygmies are pygmies still, though perch'd on y Jllps ; 
25 And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself; 

Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids ; 

Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 

Thy bosom burns for pdw'r ; 

30 What station charms thee ? I'll install thee there ; 

'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ? 

Then thou before wast something less than man. 



212 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 

That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity ; 

That pride defames humanity, and calls 

The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. 
5 High wbrth is elevated place : 'Tis more ; 

It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 

Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man ; 

Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; 

And though it wears no ribband, 'tis renown ; 
10 Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgrac'd, 

Nor leave thee pendant on a master's smile. 

Other ambition nature interdicts ; 

Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 

By pointing at his origin, and end ; 
15 Milk, and a swathe, at first his whole demand ; 

His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone ; 

To whom, between, a wdrld may seem too small. 

Young. 

9. Nothing can make it less than mad in man 

To put forth all his ardor, all his art, 
20 And give his soul her full unbounded flight, 

But reaching Him, who gave her wings to fly. 

When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 

And downward pores, for that which shines above, 

Substantial happiness, and true renown : 
25 Then, like an idiot, gazing on the brook, 

We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 

At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 

Ambition ! pow'rful source of good and ill ! 

Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 
30 When disengag'd from earth, with greater ease 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 213 

And swifter flight transports us to the skies ; 
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd, 
It turns a curse ; it is our chain, and scourge, 
In this dark dungeon, where confin'd we lie, 
5 Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 
Ne'er to be priz'd enough ! enough revolv'd ! 

10 Are there who wrap the world so close about them, 
They see no farther than the clouds ? and dance 
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe ? 
Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career, 
Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and 
song. 

15 Are there on earth, — (let me not call them men,) 
Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 
Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 
Or rock, of its inestimable gem ? 
When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these 

20 Shall kndw their treasure ; treasure, then, no more. 

Are there, (still more amazing !) who resist 

The rising thought ? Who smother, in its birth, 

The glorious truth ! Who struggle to be brutes 7 

Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way, 

25 And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink ? 

Who labor downwards through th' opposing pow'r 
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
Of endless night ? night darker than the grave's ! 

30 Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 



214 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 
Work all their engines, level their black fires, 
To blot from man this attribute divine, 
(Than vital blood far dearer to the wise) 
5 Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? 

Young. 

10. Look nature through, 'tis revolution all : 
All change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night 
The dying day; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes th' example. See, the Summer gay, 

10 With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers, 
Droops into pallid Autumn : Winter grey, 
Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away ; — 
Then melts into the Spring : Soft Spring, with breath 

1 5 Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
Recalls the first. AH, to re-flourish, fades ; 
As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend. 
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 

Look down on earth. — What seest thou ? Wondrous 
things ! 

20 Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the skies. 

What lengths of labor'd lands ! what loaded seas ! 
Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought, 
His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 

25 Nor can the eternal rbcks his will withstand : 
What leveli'd mountains ! and what lifted vales ! 
O'er vales and mountains, sumptuous cities swell, 
And gild our landscape with their glitt'ring spires. 
Borne 'mid the wond'ring waves majestic rise ; 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 21S 

And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms. 

See, wide dominions ravish'd from the deep ! 

The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 

How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 
5 Ascend the skies ! the proud triumphal arch 

Shews us half heav'n beneath its ample bend. 

High thro' mid air, here streams are taught to flow : 

Whole rivers, there, laid by in basins, sleep. 

Here, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join 
10 Thro' kingdoms channel'd deep from shore to shore : 

And chang'd creation takes its face from man. 

Earth's disembowel'd ! measur'd are the skies ! 

Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 

Creation widens ! vanquish'd nature yields ! 
1 5 Her secrets are extorted ! art prevails ! 

What monument of genius, spirit, power! 

Young. 

11. The world's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 

And who, what God foretels, (who speaks in things , 

Still louder than in words,) shall dare deny? 
20 If nature's arguments appear too weak, 

Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 

If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees. 

Can he prove infidel to what he feels ?' 

Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
25 Or, nature there, imposing on her sons, 

Has written fables : man was made a lie. 
Why discontent forever harbor'd there ? 

Incurable consumption of our peace ! 

Resolve me, why, the cottager and king, 
SO He, whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 



216 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, 

Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw, 

Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, 

In fate so distant, in complaint so near ? 
5 Reason progressive, instinct is complete; 

Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. 

Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 

Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 

Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 
10 Were man to live coeval with the sun, 

The patriarch-pupil would be learning still ; 

Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearnt. 

Men perish in advance, as if the sun 

Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd ; 
15 To man, why, stepdame nature ! so severe? 

Why thrown aside thy master-piece half wrought, 

While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ? 

Or, if abortively, poor man must die, 

Nor reach, what reach he might, why die in dread ? 
20 Why curst with foresight ? wise to misery ? 

Why of his proud prerogative the prey? 

Why less pre-eminent in rank, than pain ? 
His immortality alone can solve 

The darkest of enigmas, human hope; 
25 Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 

Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy, 

All present blessings treading under foot, 

Is scarce a milder tyrant than despair. 

With no past toils content, still planning new, 
30 Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 

Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit ? 



Ex. 19.-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 217 

Why is a wish far dearer than a crown ? 

That wish accomplish'd, why, the grave of bliss ? 

Because, in the great future, bury'd deep, 

Beyond our plans of empire and renown, 
5 Lies all that man with ardor should pursue ; 

And HE who made him, bent him to the right. 
Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 

Of self-exposure, laudable, and great ? 

Of gallant enterprise, and glorious death? 
10 Die for thy country ! — Thou romantic fool ! 

Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 

Thy country ! what to Thee ? — The Godhead, what ? 

(I speak with awe !) though He should bid thee bleed ? 

If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt, 
15 Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow? 

Be deaf; preserve thy being ; disobey. 

Since virtue's recompense is doubtful, here, 

If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 

Why is man suffer'd to be good in vain? 
20 Why to be good in vain, is man enjom'd ? 

Why to be good in vain, is man betray'd ? 

Betray'd by traitors lodg'd in his own breast, 

By sweet complacencies from virtue felt ? 

Why whispers nature lies on virtue's part ? 
25 Or if blind instinct (which assumes the name 

Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man, 

Why reason made accomplice in the cheat? 

Why are the wisest loudest in her praise ? 

Can man by reason's beam be led astray ? 
SO Or, at his peril, imitate his God ? 

Since virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 
19 






218 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22, 

Or both are true ; or, man survives the grave. 
Or own the soul immortal, or invert 

All order. Go, mock-majesty ! go, man ! 

And bow to thy superiors of the stall ; 
5 Through ev'ry scene of sense superior far : 

They graze the turf untill'd ; they drink the stream, . 

No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 

Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar ; 

Their good is good entire, unmTxt, unmarr'd ; 
10 They find a paradise in ev'ry field, 

On boughs forbidden where no curses hang : 

Their ill no more than strikes the sense ; unstretch'd 

By previous dread, or murmur in the rear ; 

When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 
15 Begins, and ends, their woe : They die but once; 

Blest, incommunicable privilege ! for which 

Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 

Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain. Young. 

12. He ceas'd ; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, 
20 Stood up ; the strongest and fiercest Spirit 
That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair : 
His trust was with th 1 Eternal to be deem'd 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less, 
Car'd not to be at all ; with that care lost 
25 Went all his fear : of God, or Hell, or worse, 
He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake. 

" My sentence is for open war ; of wiles, 
More unexpert, I boast not ; them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now ; 
30 For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 



Ex. 19—22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 219 

Millions that stand in arms, and, longing, wait 
The signal to ascend, sit lingering here 
Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprohrious den of shame, 
5 The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
By our delay ? JVd, let us rather choose, 
Arm'd with Hell-flames and fury, all at once, 
O'er Heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms, 

10 Against the Torturer ; when to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine he shall hear 
Infernal thunder, and for lightning, see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his Angels, and his throne itself, 

15 Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. ( ) But perhaps 
The way seems difficult and steep, to scale 
With upright wing against a higher foe. 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 

20 Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
That in our proper motion we ascend 
Up to our native seat : descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear, 

25 Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight 
We sunk thus low ? Th' ascent is easy then ; 
Th' event is fear'd ; should we again provoke 
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 

30 To our destruction, if there be in Hell 

Fear to be worse destroy 'd : what can be worse 



^^^^^^^^^^■^•^■^■■i^™ 



r 



J 

220 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd 
In this abhorred deep to utter woe : 
Where pain of unextinguishable fire 
Must exercise us without hope of end 
5 The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 
Inexorable, and the torturing hour, 
Calls us to penance ? More destroy'd than thus, 
We should be quite abolish'd, and expire. 
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense 

10 His utmost ire ? which, to the height enrag'd, 
Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
To nothing this essential, (happier far 
Than miserable, to have eternal being,) 
Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 

1 5 And cannot cease to be, we are at worst 
On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, 
And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne ; 

20 Which if not victory, Is yet revenge." 

13. I should be much for open war, O peers ! 
As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd, 
Main reason to persuade immediate war, 
Did not ^'ssuade me most, and seem to cast 

25 Ominous conjecture on the whole success, — 
When he, who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels, and in what excels, 
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair, 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 

30 Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 221 

First, what revenge ? The tow'rs of Heav'n are fill'd 
With armed watch, that render all access 
Impregnable ; oft on the bord'ring deep 
Encamp their legions, or, with obscure wing, 
5 Scout far and wide into the realm of night, 

Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way 
By f dree, and at our heels all Mil should rise, 
With blackest insurrection, to confound 
Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy, 

10 All incorruptible, would on his throne 
Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould, 
Incapable of stain, would soon expel 
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope 

15 Is flat despair: we must exasperate 
Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 
And that must end us, that must be our cure, 
To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 

20 Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost 
In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 
Let this be good, whether our angry foe 

25 Can give it, or will ever ? how he c&n 

Is doubtful ; that he never will is sure. Milton. 

14. Aside the Devil turn'd 



For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 
Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plain'd. 
30 " Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 
19* 



222 exercises on emphasis. [Ex. 1 9-22. 

Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
Of bliss on bliss ; while I to Hell am thrust, 
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, 
5 (Amongst our other torments not the least,) 
Still unfulfill'd, with pain of longing pines. 
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd 
From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems ; 
One fatal tree there stands of knowledge call'd, 

10 Forbidden them to taste. Knowledge forbidden? 
Suspicious, reasonless ! Why should their Lord 
Envy them that 9 Can it be sin to know ? 
Can it be death ? and do they only stand 
By fgnorance ? is that their happy state, 

15 The proof of their obedience and their faith? 
O fair foundation laid whereon to build 
Their ruin ! Hence I will excite their minds 
With more desire to know, and to reject 
Envious commands, invented with design 

20 To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt, 
Equal with Gods : aspiring to be such, 
They taste and die ; what likelier can ensue ? 
But first with narrow search I must walk round 
This garden, and no corner leave unspied ; 

25 A chance, but chance, may lead where I may meet 
Some wand'ring spi'rit of Heav'n, by fountain side, 
Or in thick shade retir'd from him to draw 
What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may, 
Yet happy pair ; enjoy, till I return, 

30 Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed." 
So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, 



Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 223 

But with sly circumspection, and began, 
Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his 
roam. Milton* 



In the following speech, where an emphatic clause is in Italic, 
or has the mark of monotone, it requires a firm, full voice, and gene- 
rally a low note. 

15. Speech of Titus Quinctius to the Romans. 

Though I am not conscious, O Romans, of any crime 
by me committed, it is yet with the utmost shame and 
confusion that I appear in your assembly. You have 
seen it — posterity will know it ! — in the fourth consul^ 

5 ship of Titus Quinctius, the iEqui and Volsci, (scarce a 
match for the Hernici alone,) came in arms, to the very 
gates of Rome, — ( ) and went away unchastised ! The 
course of our manners, indeed, in the state of our af- 
fairs, have long been such, that I had no reason to pre- 

10 sage much good ; but, could I have imagined that so 
great an ignominy would have befallen me this year, I 
would, by banishment or death, (if all other means had 
failed,) have avdided the station I am now in. (°) What? 
might Rome then have been taken, if these men who 

15 were at our gates had not wanted courage for the at- 
tempt? — Rome taken, whilst I was consul ? — ( ) Of 
honors I had sufficient — of life enough — more than 
enough — I should have died in my third consulate. 
But who are they that our dastardly enemies thus de- 

20 spise ? — the consuls, or ydu, Romans ? If we are in 
fault, depdse us, or punish us yet more severely. If you 
are to blame — may neither gods nor men punish your 
faults ! only may you repent ! — JYd, Romans, the confi- 



224 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 

dence of our enemies is not owing to their courage, or 

25 to their belief of your cowardice : they have been too 
often vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. 
(oo) Discord, discord is the ruin of this city ! The eter- 
nal disputes, between the senate and the people, are the 
sole cause of our misfortunes. While we set no bounds 

30 to our dominion, nor you to your liberty ; while you 
impatiently endure Patrician magistrates, and we Ple- 
beian ; our enemies take heart, grow elated, and pre- 
sumptuous. ( )In the name of the immortal gods, what 
is it, Romans, you would have ? You desired Tribunes ; 

35 for the sake of peace, we granted them. You were 
eager to have Decemvirs ; we consented to their cre- 
ation. You grew weary of these Decemvirs ; we oblig- 
ed them to abdicate. Your hatred pursued them when 
reduced to private men ; and we suffered you to put 

40 to death, or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the 
republic. You insisted upon the restoration o£ the Tri- 
buneship; we yielded; we quietly saw Consuls of 
your own faction elected. You have the protection of 
your Tribunes, and the privilege of appeal ; the Patri- 

45 cians are subjected to the decrees of the Commons. 
Under pretence of equal and impartial laws, you have 
invaded our rights ; and we have suffered it, and we 
still suffer it. (°) When shall we see an end of dis- 
cord ? When shall we have one interest, and one 

50 common country ? Victorious and triumphant, you 

show less temper than we under defeat. When you 

are to contend with us, you can seize the Aventine 

hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. 

The enemy is at our gates — the JEsquiline is near 



Ex, 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 225 

55 being taken, — and nobody stirs to hinder it ! But 
against us you are valiant, against us you can arm with 
diligence. Come on, then, besiege the senate-house, 
make a camp of the forum, fill the jails with our chief 
nobles, and when you have achieved these glorious 

60 exploits, then, at last, sally out at the JEsquiline gate, 
with the same fierce spirits, against the Inemy. Does 
your resolution fail you for this ? Go then, and behold 
from our walls your lands ravaged, your houses plun- 
dered and in flames, the whole country laid waste with 

65 fire and sword. Have you any thing here to repafr 
these damages ? Will the Tribunes make up your 
losses to you ? They will give you words as many as 
you please ; bring impeachments in abundance against 
the prime men in the state ; heap laws upon laws ; as- 

70 semblies you shall have without end : but will any of 
you return the richer from those assemblies ? ( ) Ex- 
tinguish, O Romans, these fatal divisions ; generously 
break this cursed enchantment, which keeps you bu- 
ried in a scandalous inaction. Open your eyes, and 

75 consider the management of those ambitious men, who, 
to make themselves powerful in their party, study noth- 
ing but how they may foment divisions in the common- 
wealth. — If you can but summon up your former cour- 
age, if you will now march out of Rome with your con- 

80 suls, there is no punishment you can inflict, which I 
will not submit to, if I do not, in a few days, drive 
those pillagers out of our territory. This terror of 
war, with which you seem so grievously struck, shall 
quickly be removed from Rome to their own cities. 



226 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 23. 

23] Page 68. Difference between the common and the 
intensive inflection. 

The difficulty to be avoided may be seen sufficiently in an ex- 
ample or two. There is a general tendency to make the slide of the 
voice as great in degree, when there is little stress, as when there is 
much ; whereas in the former case the slide should be gentle, and 
sometimes hardly perceptible. 

Common slide. 

To play with important truths; to disturb the repose 
of established tenets ; to subtilize objections; and elude 
proof, is too often the sport of youthful vanity, of which 
maturer experience commonly repents. 

Were the miser's repentance upon the neglect of a 
good bargain ; his sorrow for being over-reached ; his 
hope of improving a sum ; and his fear of falling into 
want ; directed to their proper objects, they would make 
so many Christian graces and virtues. 

Intensive slide. 

Consider, I beseech you, what was the part of a 
faithful citizen ? of a prudent, an active, and an honest 
minister ? Was he not to secure Euboea, as our defence 
against all attacks by sea ? Was he not to make Beotia 
our barrier on the midland side ? The cities bordering 
on Peloponnesus our bulwark on that quarter ? Was he 
not to attend with due precaution to the importation of 
corn, that this trade might be protected through all its 
progress up to our own harbors? Was he not to cover 
those districts which jve commanded, by seasonable de- 
tachments, as the Proconesus, the Chersonesus, and Ten- 
edos? To exert himself in the assembly for this pur~ 



_k 



Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 227 

pose, while with equal zeal he labored to gain others 
to our interest and alliance, as Byzantium, Abydus, and 
Euboia ? Was he not to cut off the best, and most im- 
portant resources of our enemies, and to supply those in 
which our country was defective ? — And all this you gain- 
ed by my counsels, and my administration. 



EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 

24] Page 118. Compass of voice. 

To assist in cultivating the bottom of the voice, I have selected 
examples of sublime or solemn description, which admit of but little 
inflection ; and some which contain the figure of simile. Where the 
mark for low note is inserted, the reader will take pains to keep down 
his voice, and to preserve it in nearly the grave monotone. 

1. (o) He bowed the heavens also, and came down 5 
and darkness was under his feet. — And he rode upon a 
cherub, and did fly: yea, he did fly upon the wings of 
the wind. — He made darkness his secret place ; his pavil- 
ion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of 
the skies. — At the brightness that was before him his thick 
clouds passed, hailstones and coals of fire. — The Lord 
also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his 
voice ; hailstones and coals of fire. 

2. ( ) And then shall appear the sign of the Son of 
Man in heaven : and then shall all the tribes of the earth 
mourn, and they shall see the Son of Man, coming in the 
clouds of heaven, with power and great glory. — And he 
shall send his angels, with a great sound of a trumpet, and 
they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, 
from one end of heaven to the other. 

3. (o) And the heaven departed as a scroll, when it is 
rolled together ; and every mountain and island were 



228 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 24. 

moved out of their places. 2 And the kings of the earth, 
and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief cap- 
tains, and the mighty men, and every bond-man, and ev- 
ery free-man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks 
of the mountains ; 3 And said to the mountains and rocks, 
Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth 
on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb : — For 
the great day of his wrath is come ; and who shall be able 
to stand ? 

4. And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on 
it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; 
and there was found no place for them. 5 And I saw the 
dead, small and great, stand before God ; and the books 
were opened : and another book was opened, which is 
the book of life : and the dead were judged out of those 
things which were written in the books, according to their 
works. 6 And the sea gave up the dead which were in 
it ; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were 
in them : and they were judged every man according to 
their works. 

4. 'Tis listening Fear and dumb Amazement all : 
When to the startled eye, the sudden glance 
Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud : 
And following slower, in explosion fast, 
5 The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
At first heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
The tempest growls ; ( ) but as it nearer comes, 
And rolls its awful burthen on the wind ; 
The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 

10 The noise astounds: till over head a sheet 
Of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts 
And opens w T ider; shuts and opens, still 
Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. 
Follows the loosened aggravated roar, 

15 Enlarging, deep'ning, mingling, peal on peal 
Crush'd horrible, convulsing; heaven and earth. 



Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 



229 



5. Twas then great Marlb'rough's mighty soul was 

prov'd, 
That in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd, 
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, 
Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war ; 
In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, 
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid ; 
Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, 
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. 
( ) So when an angel, by divine command, 
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
(Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,) 
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
And pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm. 

6. Rous'd from his trance, he mounts with eyes 

aghast, 
When o'er the ship in undulation vast, 
A giant surge down rushes from on high, 
And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie ; 
( ) As when, Britannia's empire to maintain, 
Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, 
Around the brazen voice of battle roars, 
And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; 
Beneath the storm their shatter'd navies groan, 
The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone ; 
Thus the torn vessel felt the enormous stroke, 
The beams beneath the thund'ring deluge broke. 

7. To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied. 
Reign thou in Hell, thy kingdom ; let me serve 
In Heav'n God ever blest, and his divine 
Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd ; 

Yet chains in Hell, not realms expect : meanwhile 
From me, (return'd as erst thou saidst from flight,) 
This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 
20 



1 



' 



I 



230 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 24. 

(o) So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 

10 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 

Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, 
Such ruin intercept ; ten paces huge 
He back recoiPd ; the tenth on bended knee 
His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth 

15 Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, 
Sidelong had push'd a mountain from his seat, 

Half sunk with all his pines. 

Now storming fury rose, 

And clamor such as heard in Heav'n till now 

20 Was never ; arms on armor clashing, bray'd 
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 
Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise 
Of conflict ; over head the dismal hiss 
Of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew, 

25 And flying, vaulted either host with fire. 
So under fiery cope together rush'd 
Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
And inextinguishable rage ; all Heaven 

30 Resounded, and had Earth been then, all Earth 

Had to her centre shook. 

-Long time in even scale- 



The battle hung ; till Satan, who that day 
Prodigious pow'r had shown, and met in arms 

35 No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length 
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 
Squadrons at once ; with huge two-handed sway, 
Brandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down 

40 Wide wasting ; such destruction to withstand 
He hasted, and oppos'd the rocky orb 
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 
A vast circumference. At his approach 
The great Archangel from his warlike toil 
Surceas'd, and glad, as hoping here to end 



Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 231 

45 Intestine war in Heav'n, th' arch-foe subdu'd. 
Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air 
Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood 
In horror ; from each hand with speed retir'd, 

50 Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, 
And left large fields, unsafe within the wind 
Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth 
Great things by small, if nature's concord broke, 
Among the constellations war were sprung, 

55 Two planets rushing from aspect malign 
Of fiercest opposition in mid-sky 
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 

Milton. 

The following examples are selected as a specimen of those pas- 
sages, which are most favorable to the cultivation of a top to the 
voice. In pronouncing these, the reader should aim to get up his 
voice to the highest note on which he can articulate with freedom 
and distinctness. See remarks, page 120. If the student wishes 
for more examples of this kind, he is referred to Exercises [5]. 

8. Has a wise and good God furnished us with de- 
sires which have no correspondent objects, and raised 
expectations in our breasts, with no other view but to dis- 
appoint them ? — Are we to be forever in search of hap- 
piness, without arriving at it, either in this world or the 

next? Are we formed with a passionate longing for 

immortality, and yet destined to perish after this short 
period of existence ? — Are we prompted to the noblest 
actions, and supported through life, under the severest; 
hardships and most delicate temptations, by the hopes of 
a reward which is visionary and chimerical, by the ex- 
pectation of praises, of which it is utterly impossible for 
us ever to have the least knowledge or enjoyment ? 

9. (°) "Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 



& 



s 



232 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

5 That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee : 
Retire, or taste thy folly ; and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of Heaven." 

To whom the goblin full of wrath reply'd ; 
(°) " Art thou that traitor-Angel, art thou he, 

10 Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heav'n's sons, 
Conjur'd against the Highest, for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemn'd 

15 To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 

And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of Heav'n, 
Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, 
Where /reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord ? Back to thy punishment, 

20 False fugitive, and to thy speed add ivings, 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy ling'ring, or with one stroke of this dart, 
Strange horrors seize thee, and pangs unfelt before." 

25.] Page 120. Transition. 

The Exercises of the foregoing head were designed to accustom 
the voice to exertion on the extreme notes of its compass, high and 
low. The following Exercises under this head are intended to 
accustom the voice to those sudden transitions which sentiment 
often requires, not only as to pitch, but also as to quantity. 

1. The Power of Eloquence. 

AN ODE. 

1 Heard ye those loud contending waves, 
That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state ? 

Saw ye the mighty from their graves 

Look up, and tremble at her fate ? 

Who shall calm the angry storm ? 

Who the mighty task perform, 
And bid the raging tumult cease ? 

See the son of Hermes rise ; 



Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 233 

With syren tongue, and speaking eyes, 
Hush the noise, and soothe to peace ! 

2 Lo ! from the regions of the North, 

The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
Rolls along the trembling earth, 
Fastens on the Olynthian towers. 

3 (°) " Where rests the sword ?— where sleep the brave ? 
Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 

From the fury of the blast ; 
Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ; 
Rise ! or Greece forever falls, 

y {Jp I or Freedom breathes her last V ? 

4 ( ) The jarring States, obsequious now, 

View the Patriot's hand on high ; 
Thunder gathering on his brow, 
Lightning flashing from his eye ! 

5 Borne by the tide of words along, 

One voice, one mind, inspire the throng : 

(°°) " To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" they cry, 

" Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 

Lead us to Philippi's lord, 

Let us conquer him — or die !" 

6 ( — ) Ah Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 

Wast from thy native country driven, 
When Tyranny eclips'd the sun, 
And blotted out the stars of heaven. 

7 When Liberty from Greece%ithdrew, 
And o'er the Adriatic flew, 

To where the Tiber pours his urn, 
She struck the rude Tarpeian rock ; 
Sparks were kindled by the shock — 

Again thy fires began to burn ! 
20* 



i 



i 



I 



234 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

8 Now shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 

The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
Rous'd the world-bestriding giant, 
Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 

9 I see thee stand by Freedom's fane, 
Pouring the persuasive strain, 

Giving vast conceptions birth : 
Hark ! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
Shake the Forum round and round — 

Shake the pillars of the earth ! 

1 First-born of Liberty divine ! 

Put on Religion's bright array ; 
Speak ! and the starless grave shall shine 
The portal of eternal day ! 

11 Rise, kindling with the orient beam ; 
Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme ! 

Unfold the garments roll'd in blood I 
O touch the soul, touch all her chords, 
With all the omnipotence of words, 

And point the way to heaven — to God. 

Cary. 

2. Hohenlinden... .Description of a Battle with Firearms. 

1 ( ) On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

2 But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 

The darkness of her scenery. 

3 By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each warrior drew his battle blade. 



Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 235 

And furious every charger neighed, 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

4 Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 
And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 

Far flashed the red artillery. 

5 And redder yet those fires shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow ; 
And darker yet shall be the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly. 

6 'Tis morn, — but scarce yon lurid sun 
Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, 
While furious Frank and fiery Hun 

Shout, in their sulph'rous canopy. 

7 The combat deepens. (°°) On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 

Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

8 ( — ) Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

Campbell. 

3. Hamlet's Soliloquy. 

This is one of the most difficult things to read in the English 
language. No one should attempt it without entering into the senti- 
ment, by recurring to the story of Hamlet. The notation which I 
have given, however imperfect, may at least furnish the reader with 
some guide in the management of his voice. Want of discrimina- 
tion, has been the common fault in reading this soliloquy. 

To be, or not to be ? •• that is the question. — 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 



f 



236 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
5 And, by opposing, end them ? — To die — to sleep — 
No more : — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to ? — 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ; — to sleep ; — 

10 To sleep 2 perchance, to dream : — Ay, there's the rub ; 
•• For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause. There's the respect, 
That makes calamity of so long life; 

15 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,* 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes ; 

20 When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, 
To groan and sweat under a weary life ? 
( q ) But that the dread of something after death, 
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne 

25 No traveller returns, puzzles the will ; 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of. 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, — 
And thus the native hue. of resolution 

30 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought j 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. 

4. Battle of Waterloo. 

1 There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 

*The indignant feeling awakened in Hamlet by this enumera- 
tion of particulars, requires the voice gradually to rise on each, till it 
comes to the mark of transition. 



Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 237 

Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 
A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
(o) But hush ! hark ! •• a deep sound strikes like a 
rising knell ! 

2 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 

(°) On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 
(o) But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
(°°) x Jlrm ! arm ! it is — it is — the cannon's opening 
roar! 

3 ( — ) Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated — who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 

Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 

4 And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war, 

And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. 






238 . EXERCTSES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They 
come ! They come !" 

5 ( — ) And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 

Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass, 
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and 
low. 

6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 
The morn, the marshaling in arms, — the day, 
Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, 
The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial 
blent ! Byron. 

5. Negro's Complaint. 

1 ( — ) Forced from home and all its pleasures, 

Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
To increase a stranger's treasures, 

O'er the raging billows borne. 
Men from England bought and sold me, 

Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
But though slave they have enroll'd me, 

Minds are never to be sold. 

2 Still in thought as free as ever, 

What are England's rights, I ask, 
Me from my delights to sever, 

Me to torture, me to task ? 



Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 239 

Fleecy locks and black complexion 

Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 
Skins may differ, but affection 

Dwells in white and black the snme. 

3 Why did all-creating Nature 

Make the plant for which we toil ? 
Sighs must fan it, tears must water, 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
Think, ye masters iron-hearted, 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

4 (°) Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. 

Is there one who reigns on high ? 
Has he bid you buy and sell us, 

Speaking from his throne, the sky ? 
Jlsk him, if your knotted scourges, 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges 

Agents of his will to use ? 

5 (oo) Hark ! he answers, — wild tornadoes, 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 

Are the voice with which he speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fixed their tyrants' habitations 

Where his whirlwinds answer — no. 

6 By our blood in Afric wasted, 

Ere our necks received the chain j 
By the miseries that we tasted, 

Crossing in your barks the main ; 
By our sufferings since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart; 
All, sustained by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart. 



r 



) 



fc 



240 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

7 Deem our nation brutes no longer. 

Till some reason ye shall find 
Worthier of regard, and stronger 

Than the cdlor of our kind. 
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted powers, 
Prove that you have human feelings, 

Ere you proudly question ours ! 

Cowper. 

6. Marco Bozzaris, (he Epaminondas of Modern 
Greece. 

[He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp, at Laspi, the site 
of the ancient Plata?a, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment 
of victory. His last words were — " To die for liberty is a pleasure, 
and not a pain."] 

1 ( ) At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power ; 
In dreams, through camp and court) he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
Then press'd that monarch's throne, — a king ; 
As wild iiis thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2 An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last; 
He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
(°) " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 
And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band ; 






i 






Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 241 

(°°) " Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 
God — and your native land !" 

3 They fought — like brave men, long and well, 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain, 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 

His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

4 ( — ) Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath ; — 

Come when the blessed seals 
Which close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form, 

The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 
And thou art terrible : the tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 

Of agony, are thine. 

5 But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
21 



I 



242 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 

For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — 
One of the kw, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die. Halleck. 

7. ( ) Now when fair morn orient in Heaven ap- 
pear'd, 
Up rose the victor-Angels, and to arms 
The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
5 Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 

Look'd round, and scouts each coast light armed scour, 
Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 
Where lodg'd, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
In motion or in halt : him soon they met 

10 Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
But firm battalion ; back with speediest sail 
Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 
Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried ; 
(°°)' x Arm, Warriors, arm for fight — the foe at hand, 

15 Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
This day ; fear not his flight : so thick a cloud 
He comes, and settled in his face I see 
Sad resolution and secure ; let each 
His adamantine coat gird well, — and each 

20 Fit well his helm, — gripe fast his orbed shield, 
Borne ev'n or high ; for this day will pour down, 
If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower, 
But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire.' 
(o) So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soon 

25 In order, quit of all impediment ; 

Instant, without disturb, they took the alarm, 
And onward move, embattled : when behold, 
Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe 



Ik 



Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 243 

Approaching, gross and huge, in hollow cube, 

30 Training his devilish enginery, impaPd 

On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 
To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 
A while ; but suddenly at head appear'd 
Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud ; 

35 (ooj 'Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold ; 
That all may see who hate us, how we seek 
Peace and composure, and with open breast 
Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
Our overture, and turn not back perverse.' 

Milton. 

26] Page 125. Expression. 

The Exercises arranged in this class belong to the general head 
of the pathetic and delicate. As this has been partly anticipated 
under another head of the Exercises, and as the manner of execu-' 
tion in this case depends wholly on emotion, there can be little as- 
sistance rendered by a notation. Before reading the pieces in this 
class, the remarks of the Analysis, p. 125 — 128 should be reviewed ; 
and the mind should be prepared to feel the spirit of each piece, by 
entering fully into the circumstances of the case. 

1. Genesis xliv. Judatis Speech to Joseph. 

18 *Then Judah came near unto him, and said, O 
my lord, let thy servant, T pray thee, speak a word in my 
lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy ser- 
vant : for thou art even as Pharaoh. — 19 My lord asked 
his servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother ? — 
20 And we said unto my lord, We have a father, an old 
man, and a child of his old age, a little one : and his broth- 
er is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and his fa- 
ther loveth him. — 21 And thou saidst unto thy servants, 
Bring him down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon 
him. — 22 And we said unto my lord, The lad cannot 

* The reader is again desired to bear in mind that in extracts 
from the Bible, as well as other books, Italic words denote emphasis. 



244 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26. 

leave his father : for if be should leave his father, his 
father would die. — 23. And thou saidst unto thy servants, 
Except your youngest brother come down with you, ye 
shall see my face no more. — 24 And it came to pass, 
when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told 
him the words of my lord. — 25 And our father said, Go 
again and buy us a little food. — 26 And we said, We 
cannot go down : if our youngest brother be with us, then 
will we go down ; for we may not see the man's face, ex- 
cept our youngest brother be with us. — 27 And thy ser- 
vant my father said unto us, Ye know that my wife bear 
me two sons: — 28 And the one. went out from me, and 
I said, Surely he is torn in pieces ; and I saw him not 
since : — 29 And if ye take this also from me, and mis- 
chief befall him, ye shall bring down my grey hairs with 
sorrow to the grave. — 30 Now therefore when I come 
to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us ; 
(seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life ;) — 31 It 
shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with 
us, that he will die : and thy servants shall bring down 
the grey hairs of thy servant our father with sorrow to the 
grave.— 32 For thy servant became surety for the lad 
unto my father, saying, If I bring him not unto thee, then 
I shall bear the blame to my father forever. — 33 Now 
therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the 
lad, a bond-man to my lord ; and let the lad go up with 
his brethren. — 34 For how shall I go up to my father, 
and the lad be not with me? lest peradventure I see the 
evil that shall come on my father. 

2. Genesis xlv. Joseph disclosing himself. 

1 Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all 
them that stood by him ; and he cried, Cause every man 
to go out from me. And there stood no man with him 
while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. — 2 
And he wept aloud : and the Egyptians and the house of 
Pharaoh heard. — 3 And Joseph said unto his brethren, 



Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 245 

lam Joseph; doth my father yet live ? And his breth- 
ren could not answer him ; for they were troubled at his 
presence. — 4 And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come 
near to me, I pray you : and they came near. And he 
said, I am Joseph your brother, whom you sold into Egypt. 
5 Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with your- 
selves, that you sold me hither : for God did send me be- 
fore you to preserve life. 6 For these two years hath the 
famine been in the land : and yet there are five years, in 
the which there shall be neither earing nor harvest. 7 
And God sent me before ^ou, to preserve you a posterity 
in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. 

8 So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God : 
and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of 
all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt. 

9 Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, 
Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all 
Egypt ; come down unto me, tarry not : 10 And thou 
shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near 
unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's child- 
ren, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou hast : 
1 1 And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five 
years of famine,) lest thou, and thy household, and all 
that thou hast come to poverty. 12 And behold, your 
eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is 
my mouth that speaketh unto you. 13 And ye shall tell 
my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye 
have seen ; and ye shall haste, and bring down my father 
hither. 14 And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's 
neck, and weptj and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15 
Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon 
them : and after that his brethren talked with him. 

25 And they went up out of Egypt, and came into 
the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, 26 And told 
him saying, Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor over 
all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he 
believed them not. 27 And they told him all the words 
21* 



r 



1 



246 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26. 

of Joseph, which he had said unto them : and when he 
saw the wagons which Joseph had sent to carry him, the 
spirit of Jacob their father revived : 28 And Israel said, 
It is enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go and 
see him before I die. 

3. The death of a friend. 

1 I fain would sing : — but ah ! I strive in vain. 
Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound, 
With trembling step, to join, yon weeping train, 

I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, 
And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death resound. 

2 Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, 
The soft amusement of the vacant mind ! 
He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, 
He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined, 
Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind ! 
He sleeps in dust. Ah, how shall I pursue 
My theme ! To heart-consuming grief resign'd, 
Here on his recent grave I fix my view, 

And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu ! 

3 Art thou, my Gregory, forever fled ! 
And am I left to unavailing wo ! 

When fortune's storms assail this weary head, 
Where cares long since have shed untimely snow, 
Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go ! 
No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : 
Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, 
My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 
'Tis meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh my tears. 

Beattie. 

4. The Sabbath. 

How still the morning of the hallowed day ! 
Mute is the voice of rural labor, hush'd 



Ex. 20.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 247 

The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song. 
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath 
5 Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers, 
That yester morn bloom'd waving in the breeze : 
The faintest sounds attract the ear, — the hum 
Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, 
The distant bleating, midway up the hill. 

10 Calmness seems thron'd on yon unmoving cloud. 
To him who wanders o'er the upland leas, 
The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale, 
And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark 
Warbles his heav'n-tun'd song ; the lulling brook 

15 Murmurs more gently down the deep-sunk glen ; 
While from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke 
O'ermounts the mist, is heard, at intervals, 
The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. 
With dove-like wings Peace o'er yon village broods: 

20 The dizzying mill-wheel rests ; the anvil's din 
Has ceas'd ; all, all around is quietness. 
Less fearful on this day, the limping hare 
Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man, 
Her deadliest foe ; — the toil-worn horse set free, 

25 Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large. 
And, as his stiff unwieldy bulk he rolls, 
His iron-arm'd hoofs gleam in the morning ray. 

But, chiefly, Man the day of rest enjoys. 
Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day. 

30 On other days, the man of toil is doom'd 
To eat his joyless bread, lonely, the ground 
Both seat and board, — screen'd from the winter's cold 
And summer's heat, by neighboring hedge or tree ; 
But on this day, embosom'd in his home, 

35 He shares the frugal meal with those he loves ; 
With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
Of giving thanks to God, — not thanks of form, 
A word and a grimace, but reverently, 
With covered face and upward earnest eye. 



24^ EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26 

40 Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day. 
The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe 
The morning air, pure from the city's smoke, 
As wandering slowly up the river's bank, 
He meditates on him whose power he marks 

45 In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough, 
And in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 
Around the roots ; and while he thus surveys 
With elevated joy each rural charm, 
He hopes, (yet fears presumption in the hope,) 

50 That heaven may be one Sabbath without end. 
But now his steps a welcome sound recalls : 
Solemn, the knell from yonder ancient pile 
Fills all the air, inspiring joyful awe ; 
The throng moves slowly o'er the tomb-pav'd ground : 

55 The aged man, the bowed down, the blind 

Led by the thoughtless boy, and he who breathes 
With pain, and eyes the new-made grave, well-pleas'd; 
These, mingled with the young, the gay, approach 
The house of God : these, spite of all their ills, 

60 A glow of gladness prove : with silent praise 
Tbey enter in : a placid stillness reigns ; 
Until the man of God, worthy the name, 
Opens the book, and, with impressive voice, 
The weekly portion reads. 

Grahame. 

5. The Burial of Sir John Moore. 

1 ( — ) Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our Hero was buried. 

2 We buried him darkly ; at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning, 

By the struggling moon-beams' misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 



a l: 



Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 249 

3 No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ! 
But he lay — like a warrior taking his rest — 
With his martial cloak around him ! 

4 Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow — 

5 We thought — as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow — 
How thefoe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 
And we far away on the billow ! 

6 " Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him." 

7 But half of our heavy task was done, 

When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring. 
And we heard the distant and random gun, 
That the foe was suddenly firing — 

8 Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory ! 
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But left him — alone with his glory ! 

6. Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise. 

" ( — ) O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death ! 
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave 
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, 
5 Quiet though sad, the respite of that day, 
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, 
That never will in other climate grow, 
My early visitation, and my last 
At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand 



250 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26. 

10 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, 
Who now shall rear yon to the sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd 
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 

15 How shall 1 part, and whither wander down 
Into a lower world, to this obscure 
And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air 
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits ?" 

7. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle. 

( q ) Oh ! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon't, 
A brother's murder ! — Pray I cannot, 
Though inclination be as sharp as 'twill, 
5 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent : 
And, like a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
And both neglect. (°) What if this cursed hand 
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ; 

10 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, 
But to confront the visage of offence ? 
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, 
To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 

1 5 Or pardon'd being down ? — Then I'll look ilj) ; 
My fault is past. — But oh, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn ? " Forgive me my foul murder !" 
That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 
Of those effects for which I did the murder, 

20 My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ? 
In the corrupted currents of this world, 
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ; 
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 

25 Buys out the law : but 'tis not so abdve ; 
There, is no shuffling ; there, the action lies 



Ex. 27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION-, 251 

In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
To give in evidence. — 'What then ? — what rests ? 

30 Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ? 
( ) O wretched state ! oh bosom, black as death ! 
Oh limed soul ; that, struggling to be free, 
Art more engag'd ! Help, angels ! make assay ! 

35 Bow, stubborn knees ; and, heart, with strings of steel, 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
All may be well. 

27] Page 128. Representation. 

1 Matt. xiv. — 22 And straightway Jesus constrain- 
ed his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him 
unto the other . side, while he sent the multitudes away. 
23 And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went 
up into a mountain apart to pray : and when the evening 
was come, he was there alone. 24 But the ship was 
now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves : for the 
wind was contrary. 25 And in the fourth watch of the 
night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. 26 And 
when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were 
troubled, saying, It is a spirit ; and they cried out for 
fear. 27 But straightway Jesus spake unto them, say- 
ing, Be of good cheer ; it is X J; be not afraid. 28 And 
Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me 
come unto thee on the water. 29 And he said, Come. 
And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he 
walked on the water, to go to Jesus. 30 But when he 
saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid ; and beginning 
to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, scive me. 31 And imme- 
diately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, 
and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst 
thou doubt ? 32 And when they were come into the 
ship, the wind ceased. 33 Then they that were in the 
ship came and worshiped him, saying, Of a truth thou 
art the Son of God. 



252 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 

2. Matt. xvii. — 14 And when they were come to 
the multitude, there came to him a certain man kneeling 
down to him, and saying, 15 Lord, have mercy on my 
son ; for he is lunatic, and sore vexed, for oft-times 
he falleth into the fire, and oft into the water. 1 6 And 
I brought him to thy disciples, and they could not cure 
him. 17 Then Jesus answered and said, O faithless 
and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you ? 
how long shall I suffer you ? Bring him hither to me. 
18 And Jesus rebuked the devil, and he departed out of 
him : and the child was cured from that very hour. 19 
Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, Why 
could not w& cast him out ? 20 And Jesus said unto 
them, Because of your unbelief; for verily I say unto 
you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall 
say unto this mduntain, Remove hence to yonder place ; 
and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible un- 
to you. 

3. Matt, xviii. — 23 Therefore is the kingdom of 
heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take ac- 
count of his servants. 24 And when he had begun to 
reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten 
thousand talents. 25 But forasmuch as he had not to 
pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife 
and children, and all that he had, and payment to be 
made. 26 The servant therefore fell down and wor- 
shiped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I 
will pay thee all. 27 Then the lord of that servant was 
moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him 
the debt. 28 But the same servant went out, and found 
one of his fellow-servants, which owed him a hundred 
pence; and he laid hands on him, and took him by the 
throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest. 29 And his 
fellow-servant fell down at bis feet, and besought him, 
saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. 
SO And he would not: but went and cast him into pris- 
on, till he should pay the debt. 31 So when his fel- 



Ex. 27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 253 

low-servants saw what was done, they were very sorry, 
and came and told unto their lord all that was done. 
32 Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto 
him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, 
because thou desiredst me : 33 Shouldst not thou also 
have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had 
pity on thee ? 

4. Matt. xx. — 25 But Jesus called them unto him, 
and said, Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exer- 
cise dominion over them, and they that are great exer- 
cise authority upon them. 26 But it shall not be so 
among you : but whosoever will be great among you, let 
him be your minister; 27 And whosoever will be chief 
among you, let him be your servant : 28 Even as the 
Son of Man came not to be ministered unto, but to min- 
ister, and to give his life a ransom for many. 29 And as 
they departed from Jericho, a great multitude followed 
him. 

30 And behold, two blind men sitting by the way- 
side, when they heard that Jesus passed by, cried out, 
saying, Have mercy on us, O Lord, thou son of David. 
31 And the multitude rebuked them, because they should 
hold their peace : but they cried the more, saying, Have 
mfocy on us, O Lord, thou son of David. 32 And Jesus 
stood still, and called them, and said, What will ye that 
I shall do unto you ? 33 They say unto him, Lord, that 
our eyes may be opened. 34 So Jesus had compassion 
on them, and touched their eyes : and immediately their 
eyes received sight, and they followed him. 

5. Matt. xxi. — 23 And when he was come into the 
temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came 
unto him as he was teaching, and said, By what authbrity 
doest thou these things ? and who gctve thee this authori- 
ty ? 24 And Jesus answered and said unto them, I also 
will ask you one thing, which if ye tell me, I in like wise 
will tell you by what authority I do these things. 25 The 

22 



— 



254 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 

baptism of John, whence was it? from heaven, or of 
men ? And they reasoned with themselves, saying, If 
we shall say, From heaven ; he will say unto us, Why did 
ye not then believe him ? 26 But if we shall say, Of 
men ; we fear the people : for all hold John as a prophet. 
27 And they answered Jesus, and said, We cannot tell. 
And he said unto them, Neither tell I you by what au- 
thority I do these things. 

28 But what think ye ? A certain man had two sons ; 
and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day 
in my vineyard. 29 He answered and said, I will not ; 
but afterward he repented, and went. 30 And he came 
to the second, and said likewise. And he answered, I go, 
sir: and went not. 31 Whether of them twain did the 
will of his father? They say unto him, The first. Jesus 
saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That the publicans 
and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. 

6. Matt. xxv. — 31 When the Son of Man shall come 
in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall 
he sit upon the throne of his glory : 32 And before him 
shall be gathered all nations : and he shall separate them 
one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from 
the goats : 33 And he shall set the sheep on his right 
hand, but the goats on the left. 34 Then shall the King 
say unto them on his right hand, Cdme, ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 
foundation of the world : 35 For I was an hungered, 
and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me 
drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me in : 36 Naked, 
and ye clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : I was 
in prison, and ye came unto me. 37 Then shall the 
righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee 
an hungered, and fed thee ? or thirsty, and gave thee 
drink ? 38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee 
in ? or naked, and clothed thee ? 39 Or wh&n saw we 
thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? 40 And 
the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily, I say 



Ex. 27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 255 

unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto mi. 
41 Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, 
Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepar- 
ed for the devil and his angels : 42 For I was an hun- 
gered, and ye gave me nd meat : I was thirsty, and ye 
gave me no drink : 43 I was a stranger, and ye took 
me not in : naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in 
prison, and ye visited me not. 44 Then shall they also 
answer him, saying, Lord, whin saw we thee an hunger- 
ed, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in 
prison, and did not minister unto thee ? 45 Then shall 
he answer them, saying, Verily, I say unto you, Inasmuch 
as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not 
to mi. 46 And these shall go away into everlasting pun- 
ishment : but the righteous into life eternal. 

7. Acts xii. — 5 Peter therefore was kept in prison : 
but prayer was made without ceasing of the church unto 
God for him. 6 And when Herod would have brought 
him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between 
two soldiers, bound with two chains; and the keepers 
before the door kept the prison. 7 And behold, the an- 
gel of the Lord came upon him, and a light shined in the 
prison ; and he smote Peter on the side, and raised him 
up, saying, Arise up quickly. And his chains fell off 
from his hands. 8 And the angel said unto him, Gird 
thyself, and bind on thy sandals ; and so he did. And he 
saith unto him, Cast thy garment about thee, and follow 
me. 9 And he went out, and followed him, and wist not 
that it was true which was done by the angel ; but thought 
he saw a vision. 10 When they were past the first and 
the second ward, they came unto the iron gate that lead- 
eth unto the city ; which opened to them of his own ac- 
cord : and they went out, and passed on through one 
street: and forthwith the angel departed from him. 11 
And when Peter was come to himself, he said, Now I 
know of a surety, that the Lord hath sent his angel, and 



256 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 

hath delivered me out of the hand of Herod, and from 
all the expectation of the people of the Jews. 12 And 
when he had considered the thing, he came to the house 
of Mary the mother of John, whose surname was Mark ; 
where many were gathered together, praying. 13 And 
as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came 
to hearken, named Rhoda. 14 And when she knew Pe- 
ter's voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but 
ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate. 15 And 
they said unto her, Thou art mad. But she constantly 
affirmed that it was even so. Then said they, It is his 
&ngel. 16 But Peter continued knocking. And when 
they had opened the door, and saw him, they were as- 
tonished. 17 But he beckoning unto them with the hand 
to hold their peace, declared unto them how the Lord 
had brought him out of the prison. And he said, Go 
shew these things unto James, and to the brethren. And 
he departed, and went into another place. 

8. The Siege of Calais. 

Edward III. after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to 
Calais. He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a 
manner, that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual 
to raise the siege, or throw succors into the city. The 
command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre, a man of 
mean birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitulate 
with Edward, provided he permitted them to depart with 
life and liberty. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cru- 
elty, consented to spare the bulk of the plebeians, provid- 
ed they delivered up to him six of their principal citizens 
with halters about their necks, as victims of due atone- 
ment for that spirit of rebellion with which they had in- 
flamed the vulgar. When his messenger, Sir Walter 
Mauny, delivered the terms, consternation and pale dis- 
may were impressed on every countenance. To a long 
and dead silence, deep sighs and groans succeeded, till 
Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to a little eminence, thus 
addressed the assembly ; — " My friends, we are brought 



3Ex. 27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 257 

to great straits this day. We must either yield to the 
terms of our cruel and ensnaring conqueror, or give up our 
tender infants, our wives, and daughters, to the bloody 
and brutal lusts of the violating soldiers. Is there any 
expedient left, whereby we may avoid the guilt and infa- 
my of delivering up those who have suffered every mise- 
ry with you, on the one hand, or the desolation and hor- 
ror of a sacked city, on the other ? There is, my friends ; 
there is one expedient left ! a gracious, an excellent, a 
godlike expedient left ! Is there any here to whom vir- 
tue is dearer than life ? Let him offer himself an obla- 
tion for the safety of his people ! He shall not fail of a 
blessed approbation from that Power who offered up his 
only Son for the salvation of mankind." He spoke ; — 
but a universal silence ensued. Each man looked around 
for the example of that virtue and magnanimity which 
all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted 
the resolution. At length St. Pierre resumed, " I doubt 
not but there are many here as ready, nay, more zealous 
of this martyrdom than I can be ; though the station to 
which I am raised by the captivity of Lord Vienne, im- 
parts a right to be the first in giving my life for your sakes. 
I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. Who comes next ? 
— " Your son," exclaimed a youth not yet come to ma- 
turity. — " Ah ! my child !" cried St. Pierre ; " I am then 
twice sacrificed .^-But no; I have rather begotten thee 
a second time. Thy years are few, but full, my son. 
The victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and 
goal of mortality. Who next, my friends? This is the 
hour of heroes," — "Your kinsman," cried John de Aire 
— "Your kinsman," cried James Wissant. — "Your kins- 
man," cried Peter Wissant. — " Ah !" exclaimed Sir 
Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, " why was not I a cit- 
izen of Calais ?" The sixth victim was still wanting, but 
was quickly supplied by lot, from numbers who were now 
emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys of the 
city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six 
prisoners into his custody ; then ordered the gates to be 
22* 



258 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 

opened, and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the 
remaining citizens, with their families, through the camp 
of the English. Before they departed, however, they 
desired permission to take the last adieu of their deliver- 
ers. What a parting ! what a scene ! they crowded with 
their wives and children about St. Pierre and his fellow- 
prisoners. They embraced ; they clung around ; they 
fell prostrate before them ; they groaned ; they wept aloud ; 
and the joint clamor of their mourning passed the gates 
of the city, and was heard throughout the English camp. 

9. Extract from a Sermon of Robert Robinson. 

•Col. ii. 8. — Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit. 

" Beware lest any man spoil you" . . . What ! is it 
possible to spoil a Christian ? Indeed it is. A Chris- 
tian may spoil himself, as a beautiful complexion or a 
proper shape may be rendered disagreeable, by circum- 
stances of dress or uncleanliness ; he may be spoiled by 
other people, just as a straight child may be made crook- 
ed, by the negligence of his nurse ; or exactly as a sweet 
tempered youth may be made surly or insolent by a cru- 
el master. "Beware lest any man spoil you." Is it 
possible for whole societies of Christians to be spoiled ? 
Certainly it is. Nothing is easier. They may spoil one 
another, as in a family, the temper of one single person 
may spoil the peace of the whole ; or as in a school, one 
trifling or turbulent master may spoil the education and 
so the usefulness, through life, of two or three hundred 
pupils, successively committed to his injudicious treat- 
ment. All human constitutions, even the most excellent, 
have seeds of imperfections in them, some mixtures of 
folly which naturally tend to weaken and destroy ; and 
though this is not the case with the Christian religion it- 
self, which is the wisdom of God without any mixture of 
human folly ; yet even this pure religion, like the pure 
juice of the grape, falling into the hands of depraved 
men, may be perverted, and whole societies may embrace 
Christianity thus perverted. 



Ex. 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 25Q 

Beware lest any man spoil you through . . . what ? 
Idolatry, blasphemy, profligacy? No. Christians are 
in very little danger from great crimes ; but beware lest 
any man spoil you through philosophy. What hath phi- 
losophy done, that the apostle should thus guard Chris- 
tians against it ? Did he not know that before his time, 
while mimics were idly amusing one part of the world, 
and heroes depopulating another, the peaceable sons of 
philosophy disturbed nobody, but either improved man- 
kind in their schools, or sat all calm and content in their 
cells ? Did he not observe that in his time Christianity 
was reputed folly, because it was taught and believed by 
unlettered people ; and that if philosophers could be pre- 
vailed on to teach it, it would have instantly acquired a 
character of wisdom ? Whether the common people had 
understood it or not, they would have reckoned it wise if 
philosophers had taught it. The apostle knew all this, 
and, far from courting the aid of learned men to secure 
credit to the Gospel, he guards Christians in the text 
against the future temptation of doing so. Had this cau- 
tion been given us by any of the other apostles, who had 
not had the advantage of a learned education, we might 
have supposed, they censured what they did not under- 
stand ; but this comes from the disciple of Gamaliel.* 

28.] Page 138—143. Devotional Poetry. 

The following selection of Psalms and Hymns, is designed only 
as a specimen of the notation, partially applied here, which might be 
more extensively applied to these compositions, when they unite the 
spirit of devotion with the elevated spirit of poetry. 

The confinement of the stanza makes it much more unfavorable 
than other verse, to freedom and variety in pronunciation. The 
reader is desired to keep in mind the distinction between intensive 
and common inflection, and to remember that the former occurs in 
this kind of poetry only where ther6 is a direct question or strong 
emphasis. — In some cases only part of a Psalm or Hymn is taken. 

* The selections under this head are extended no farther here, because several of 
the familiar pieces in the second part of the Exercises are good examples of repre- 
sentation and rhetorical dialogue. 



_ 



260 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28. 

1. Psalm 17. l. m. 

1 What sinners value, I resign ; 
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine : 
I shall behold thy blissful face, 

And stand complete in righteousness. 

2 This life's a dr&am, an empty show ; 
But the bright world to which J go, 
Hath joys substantial and sincere ; 
When shall I wake and find me there ? 

3 O •• glorious hour ! O •• blest abode ! 
I shall be near, and like my God ; 
And flesh and sin no more control 
The sacred pleasures of the soul. 

4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground, 
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound : 
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, 
And in my Savior's image rise. 

Note : In some of the cases where the mark of monotone oecurs, 
Shere is a litlte inflection, most commonly downwards. 

2. Psalm 93. p. m. 

1 The Lord Jehovah reigns, 
And royal state maintains, 

His head with awful glories crown'd ; 

Array'd in robes of light, 

Begirt with sovereign might, 
And rays of majesty around. 

2 In vain the noisy crowd, 
Like billows fierce and loud, 

Against thine empire rage and roar ; 

In vain with angry spite 

The surly nations fight, 
And dash •• like waves against the shore. 

3 Let floods and nations rage, 
And all their power engage ; 

Let swelling tides assault the sky : 



Ex. 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 261 

The terrors of thy frown 
Shall beat their madness down ; 
Thy throne forever •• stands on high. 

3. Psalm 132. c. m. 

1 Arise, O King of grace, arise, 

And enter to thy rest : 
Lo ! thy church waits with longing eyes, 
Thus to be own'd and blest. 

2 Enter with all thy glorious train, 

Thy Spirit and thy word ; 
All that the ark did once contain, 
Could no such grace afford. 

' 3 Here, mighty God, accept our vows ; 
Here let thy praise be spread ; 
Bless the provision of thy house, 
And fill thy poor with bread. 

4 Here let the Son of David r&ign, 

Let God's anointed shine ; 
Justice and truth his court maintain, 
With love and power divine. 

5 Here let him hold a lasting throne, 

And as his kingdom grows, 
Fresh honors shall adorn his crown, 
And shame confound his foes. 

4. Psalm 135. c. m. 

1 Great is the Lord, and works unknown 

Are his divine employ ; 
But still his saints are near his throne, 
His treasure and his joy. 

2 All power that gods or kings have claim'd 
Is found with him alone ; 

But heathen gods should ne'er be nam'd 
Where our Jehovah's known. 



I 



k % 



262 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28. 

3 Which of the stocks and stones they trust, 

Can give them showers of rain ? 
In vain they worship glitt'ring dust. 
And pray to gold in vain. 

4 Ye nations, know the living God, 

Serve him with faith and fear ; 

He makes the churches his abode, 

And claims your honors there. 

5. Psalm 139. l. m. 

1 My thoughts, before they are my own, 
Are to my God distinctly known ; 

He knows the words I mean to speak, 
Ere from my op'ning lips they break. 

2 Ama •• zing knowledge, vast and great ! 
What large extent ! what lofty height ! 
My soul, with all the powers I boast, 
Is in the boundless prospect •• lost. 

3 Oh may these thoughts possess my breast, 
Where'er I rove, where'er I rest ; 

Nor let my weaker passions dare •• 
Consent to sin, •• for God is there. 

6. Psalm 146. l. p. m. 

1 I'll praise my Maker with my breath ; 
And when my voice is lost in death, 

Praise shall employ my nobler powers : 
My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
While life, and thought, and being last, 

Or immortality endures. 

2 Why should I make a man my trust ? 
Princes must die, and turn to dust: 

Vain is the help of flesh and blood ; 
Their breath departs, their pomp and pow'r, 
And thoughts all vanish in an hour ; 

Nor can they make their promise good. 



Ex* 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 



263 



3 Happy the man whose hopes rely 
On Israel's God ; he made the sky, 

And earth, and seas, with all their train 
His truth forever stands secure ; 
He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor ; 
And none shall find his promise vain. 

7. Hymn 142, Book i. 

1 Like sheep we went astray, 

And broke the fold of God ; 
Each wand'ring in a different way, 
But all the downward road. 

2 How dreadful was the hour, 

When God our wand'rings laid, 
And did at once his vengeance pour 
Upon the Shepherd's head ! 

3 How glorious was the grace, 

When Christ sustain'd the stroke ? 
His life and blood the Shepherd pays, 
A ransom for the flock. 

8. Hymn 14, Book ii. 

1 Welcome, sweet day of rest, 

That saw the Lord arise ; 

Welcome to this reviving breast, 

And these rejoicing eyes ! 

2 One day amidst the place 

Where my dear God hath been, 
Is sweeter than ten thousand days 
Of pleasurable sin. 

3 My willing soul would stay 

In such a frame as this ; 
And sit and sing herself away 
To everlasting bliss. 



264 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28. 



9. Hymn 76, Book ii. 

1 Hosanna to the Prince of light, 

That cloth'd himself in clay ; 
Enter'd the iron gates of death, 
And tore the bars away. 

2 Death is no more the king of dread, 

Since our Immanuel rose ; 

He took the tyrant's sting away, 

And spoil'd our hellish foes. 

3 Raise your devotion, •• mortal tongues, — 

To reach his blest abode : 
Sweet be the accents of your songs, 
To our incarnate God. 

4 Bright angels ! •• strike your loudest strings, 

Your sweetest voices raise ; 
Let heav'n and all created things 
Sound our ImmanuePs praise. 

10. Hymn 77, Book ii. 

1 Stand tip, my soul, shake off thy fears, 

And gird the gospel armor on ; 
March to the gates of endless joy, 

Where thy great Captain- Savior's gone. 

2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course, 

But hell and sin are vanquished foes ; 
Thy Jesus naiPd them to the cross, 
And sung the triumph when he rose. 

3 Then let my soul march boldly on, 

Press forward to the heavenly gate ; 
There peace and joy eternal reign, 

And glitt'ring robes for conqu'rors wait. 

4 There shall /wear a starry crown, 

And triumph in almighty grace ; 
While all the armies of the skies, 
Join in my glorious Leader's praise. 






Ex. 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 265 

11. Hymn 108, Book n. 

1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes 

Up to the courts above, 
And smile to see our Father there, 
Upon a throne of love. 

2 Once 'twas the seat of dreadful wrath, 

And shot devouring flame : 
Our God appear'd consuming fire, 
And Vengeance was his name. 

3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood, 

That cdlm'd •• his frowning face, 
That sprinkl'd o'er the burning throne, 
And turn'd the wrath to grace. 

4 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring, 

Great Advocate on High ; 
And glory to th' eternal King 
That lays his fury by. 

12. Hymn 116, Book ii. 

1 How can I sink with such a prop 

As my eternal God, 
Who bears the earth's huge pillars up, 
And spreads the heav'ns abroad ? 

2 How can I die while Jesus lives, 

Who rose and left the dead ? 
Pardon and grace my soul receives 
From mine exalted Head. 

3 All that I am, and all I have, 

Shall be forever thine : 
Whate'er my duty bids me give, 
My cheerful hands resign. 

4 Yet if I might make some reserve, 

And duty did not call, 
I love my God with zeal so great 
That I should give him all. 
23 , 



/d 



• 






266 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28. 

13. Missionary Hymn. 

1 From Greenland's icy mountains, 
From India's coral strand; 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 
Roll down their golden sand ; 
From many an ancient river, 
From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver •• 
Their land from error's chain. 

2 What tho' the spicy breezes 
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, 
Tho' every prospect pleases, 
And only man is vile ; 
In vain with lavish kindness 
The gifts of God are strown ; 
The heathen in his blindness 
Bows down to ivood and stone. 

3 Shall we whose souls are lighted 
With wisdom from on high, 
Shall we to men benighted 
The lamp of life deny ? 
( 0O ) Salvation ! O •• Salvation ! 
The joyful sound proclaim, 
Till earth's remotest nation 
Has learn'd Messiah's name. 

4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, 
And you, ye waters, roll, 
Till, like a sea of glory, 
It spreads from pole to pole ; 
Till o'er our ransom'd nature, 
The lamb for sinner's slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 
In bliss returns to reign. 

Bishop Heber. 



PART II. 

FAMILIAR PIECES 



The reader will observe that no rhetorical notation is applied in 
the following Exercises. 

29. Hamlet's instruction to Players. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to 
you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as 
many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke 
my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your 
5 hand, thus : but use all gently : for in the very torrent, 
tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, 
you must acquire and beget a temperance that may 
give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear 
z. robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tat- 

10 ters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings ; who, 
for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable 
dumb shows, and noise : I would have such a fellow 
whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod. 
Pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame neither ; but let 

15 your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the 
word, the word to the action ; with this special observ- 
ance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for 
any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing ; 
whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to 

20 hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue 
her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very ag© 






268 exercises. [Ex. 30. 

and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, 
overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskil- 
ful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve ; the 

25 censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'er- 
weigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players, 
that I have seen play, — and heard others praise, and that 
highly, — not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, 

30 nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have 
thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, 
and not made them well, they imitated humanity so 
abominably. Shakspeare. 

30. The dead Mother. 

F. Touch not thy mother, boy — Thou canst not 

wake her. 
C. Why, father ? She still wakens at this hour. 
F. Your mother's dead, my child. 
5 C. And what is dead 1 

If she be dead, why then 'tis only sleeping, 
For I am sure she sleeps. Come, mother, — rise — 
Her hand is very cold ! 
F. Her heart is cold. 
10 Her limbs are bloodless, would that mine were so ! 

C. If she would waken, she would soon be warm. 
Why is she wrapped in this thin sheet ? If I, 
This winter morning, were not covered better, 
I should be cold like her. 
15 F. No — not like her : 

Tfre fire might warm you, or thick clothes — but her — 
Nothing can warm again ! 

C. If I could wake her, 
She would smile on me, as she always does, 
20 And kiss me. Mother ! you have slept too long — 
Her face is pale — and it would frighten me, 
But that I know she loves me. 
F. Come, my child. 

C. Once, when I sat upon her lap, I felt 
25 A beating at her side, and then she said 
It was her heart that beat, and bade me feel 
For my own heart, and they both beat alike, 



Ex.31.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 269 

Only mine was the quickest — And I feel 
My own heart yet — but her's — I cannot feel — 
30 F. Child ! child ! — you drive me mad — Come hence 

I say. 
C. Nay, father, be not angry ! let me stay here 
Till my mother wakens. 
F. I have told you, 
35 Your Mother cannot wake — not in this world — 
But in another she will wake for us. 
When we have slept like her, then we shall see her. 
C. Would it were night then ! 
F. No, unhappy child ! 
40 Full many a night shall pass, ere thou canst sleep 
That last, long sleep. — Thy father soon shall sleep it ; 
Then wilt thou be deserted upon earth : ♦ 

None will regard thee ; thou wilt soon forget 
That thou hadst natural ties, — an orphan lone, 
45 Abandoned to the wiles of wicked men, 
And women still more wicked. 

C. Father! Father! 
Why do you look so terribly upon me, 
You will not hurt me 1 
50 F. Hurt thee, darling ? no ! 

Has sorrow's violence so much of anger, 
That it should fright my boy 1 Come, dearest, come. 
C. You are not angry then ? 
F. Too well I love you. 
55 C. All you have said I cannot now remember, 

Nor what is meant — you terrified me so. 
But this I know, you told me, — I must sleep 
Before my mother wakens — so, to-morrow — 
Oh father ! that to-morrow were but come ! 

31. The Temptation. 

Gen. iii. — 1 Now the serpent was more subtile than any 
beast of the field which the Lord God had made : and he 
said unto the woman, yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat 
of every tree of the garden 1 2 And the woman said unto 
the serpent, we may eat of the fruit of the trees of the gar- 
den : 3 But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst 
23* 



270 exercises. [Ex. 32. 

of the garden, God hath said, ye shall not eat of it, neither 
shall ye touch it, lest ye die. 4 And the serpent said unto 
the woman, ye shall not surely die. 5 For God doth know 
that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be open- 
ed ; and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. 8 
And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the 
garden in the cool of the day : and Adam and his wife hid 
themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the 
trees of the garden. 9 And the Lord God called unto Ad- 
am, and said unto him, Where art thou ? 10 And he said, 
I heard thy voice in the garden : and 1 was afraid, because 
I was naked; and I hid myself. 11 And he said, Who 
told thee that thou wast naked ? Hast thou eaten of the tree 
whereof I commanded thee, that thou shouldest not eat? 
12 And the man said, The woman whom thou gavest to be 
with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat. 13 And 
the Lord God said unto the woman, What is this that thou 
hast done ? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled 
^me, and I did eat. 

32. Partiality of Authors. 

" Have you read my Key to the Romans V — said 
Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, to Mr. Newton.—" I have 
turned it over." — " You have turned it over ! And is 
this the treatment a book must meet with, which has 
5 cost me many years of hard study 1 Must I be told, at 
last, that you have ' turned it over,' and then thrown it 
aside 1 You ought to have read it carefully and weigh- 
ed deliberately what comes forward on so serious a sub- 
ject." — " Hold ! You have cut me out full employment, 

10 if my life were to be as long as Methuselah's. I have 
somewhat else to do in the short day alloted me, than to 
read whatever any one may think it his duty to write. 
When I read, I wish to read to good purpose ; and 
there are some books, which contradict on the very face 

15 of them what appear to me to be first principles. You 
surely will not say I am bound to read such books. If 
a man tells me he has a very elaborate argument to 
prove that two and two make five, I have something 
else to do than to attend to this argument. If I find 



Ex. 33.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 211 

20 the first mouthful of meat which I take from a fine- 
looking joint on my table is tainted, I need not eat 
through it to be convinced I ought to send it away." 

Cecil. 

33. What is time ? 

I asked an aged man, a man of cares, 
Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs ; 
" Time is the warp of life," he said, " Oh, tell 
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well!" 
5 I asked the ancient, venerable dead, 
Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled ; 
From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed, 
" Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode !" 
I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 

10 Of life had left his veins : " Time !" he replied ; 
" I've lost it !" Ah, the treasure ! and he died. 
I asked the golden sun, and silver spheres, 
Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare !" 

15 And bade us for eternity prepare. 

I asked the Seasons, in their annual round, 

Which beautify, or desolate the ground ; 

And they replied, (no oracle more wise,) 

" 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize !" 

20 I asked a spirit lost ; but oh, the shriek 

That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak ! 
It cried, " A particle, a speck, a mite 
Of endless years, duration infinite !" — 
Of things inanimate, my dial, I 

25 Consulted, and it made me this reply : — 
" Time is the season fair of living well, 
The path of glory, or the path of hell." 
I asked my Bible ; and methinks it said, 
" Time is the present hour, — the past is fled ; 

30 Live ! live to-day ! to-morrow never yet 
On any human being rose or set." 
I asked old Father Time himself, at last, 
But in a moment he flew swiftly past : 
His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind 

35 His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. 



—35. 



272 exercises. [Ex. 34 

I asked the mighty angel, who shall stand, 
One foot on sea, and one on solid land ; 
" By heavens," he cried, " I swear the mystery's o'er : 
Time was" he cried, " but Time shall be no more !" 

Marsden. 

34. Ruth and Naomi. 

Ruth. i. — 14 And they lifted up their voice, and wept 
again. And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law ; but Ruth 
clave unto her. 15 And she said, Behold, thy sister-in-law 
is gone back unto her people, and unto her gods ; return 
thou after thy sister-in-law. 16 And Ruth said, Entreat me 
not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee : for 
whither thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I 
will lodge"; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my 
God : 17 Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be 
buried ; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but 
death part thee and me. 18 When she saw that she was 
steadfastly minded to go with her, then she left speaking un- 
to her. 

19 So they two went until they came to Bethlehem. 
And it came to pass, when they were come to Bethlehem, 
that all the city was moved about them, and they said, Is 
this Naomi ? 20 And she said unto them, call me not 
Naomi, call me Mara : for the Almighty hath dealt very 
bitterly with me. 21 I went out full, and the Lord hath 
brought me home again empty : why then call ye me Nao- 
mi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Al- 
mighty hath afflicted me? 22 So Naomi returned, and 
Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, with her, which 
returned out of the country of Moab : and they came to 
Bethlehem in the beginning of barley-harvest. 

35. Influence of education, constitution, and circumstan- 
ces informing character. 

He has seen but little of life, who does not discern 

every where the effects of education on men's opinions 

and habits of thinking. Two children bring out of 

the nursery that, which displays itself throughout their 

5 lives. And who is the man that can rise above his dis- 



Ex, 35.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 273 

pensation, and can say, " You have been teaching me 
nonsense ?" 

As to constitution — look at Martin Luther : we may 
see the man every day : his eyes, and nose, and mouth 

10 attest his character. Look at Melancthon : he is like a 
snail with his couple of horns ; he puts out his horns and 
feels — and feels — and feels. No education could have 
rendered these two men alike. Their difference began in 
the womb. Luther dashes in saying his things ; Melanc- 

15 thon must go round about — he must consider what the 
Greek says, and what the Syriac says. Some men are 
born minute men — lexicographers — of a German charac- 
ter : they will hunt through libraries to rectify a sylla- 
ble. Other men are born keen as a razor ; they have 

20 a sharp, severe, strong acumen : they cut every thing 
to pieces : their minds are like a case of instruments ; 
touch which you will it wounds ; they crucify a mod- 
est man. Such men should aim at a right knowledge 
of character. If they attained this, they would find out 

25 the sin that easily besets them. The greater the capac- 
ity of such men, the greater their cruelty. They ought 
to blunt their instruments. They ought to keep them 
in a case. Other men are ambitious — fond of power ; 
pride and power give a velocity to their motions. Oth- 

30 ers are born with a quiet, retiring mind. Some are nat- 
urally fierce, and others naturally mild, and placable. 
Men often take to themselves great credit for what 
they owe entirely to nature. If we would judge right- 
ly, we should see that narrowness or expansion of mind, 

35 niggardliness or generosity, delicacy or boldness, have 
less of merit or demerit than we commonly assign to 
them. 

Circumstances, also, are not sufficiently taken into 
the account, when we estimate character. For exam- 

40 pie — we generally censure the Reformers and Puritans 
as dogmatical, morose, systematic men. But, it is easi- 
er to walk on a road, than to form that road. Other 
men labored, and we have entered into their labors. In a 
fine day, I can walk abroad ; but in a rough and stormy 

45 day, I should find it another thing to turn coachman 
and dare all weathers, These men had to bear the bur- 



274 exercises. [Ex. 36. 

den and heat of the day : they had to fight against hard 
times : they had to stand up against learning and pow- 
er. Their times were not like ours: a man may now 

50 think what he will, and nobody cares what he thinks. 
A man of that school was, of course, stiff, rigid, unyield- 
ing. Tuckney was such a man : Whichcot was for 
smoothing things, and walked abroad. We see circum- 
stances operating in many other ways. A minister un- 

55 married, and the same man married, are very different 
men. A minister in a small parish, and the same man 
in a large sphere where his sides are spurred and goad- 
ed, are very different men. A minister on tenter-hooks 
— harassed — schooled, and the same man nursed — cher- 

60 ished — put into a hot-house, are very different men. 
Some of us are hot-house plants. We grow tall : not 
better — not stronger. Talents are among the circum- 
stances winch form the diversity of character. A man 
of talents feels his own powers, and throws himself into 

65 that line which he can pursue with most success. Sau- 
rin felt that he could flourish — lighten — thunder — en- 
chant, like a magician. Every one should seriously 
consider, how far his talents and turn of mind and cir- 
cumstances divert him out of the right road. Cecil. 

36. Death of Absalom. 

2 Sam. xviii. — 19 Then said Ahimaaz the Son of Zadok, 
Let me now run, and bear the king tidings, how that the 
Lord hath avenged him of his enemies. 20 And Joab said 
unto him, Thou shalt not bear tidings this day, but thou 
shalt bear tidings another day ; but this day thou shalt bear 
no tidings, because the king's son is dead. 21 Then said 
Joab to Cushi, Go, tell the king what thou hast seen. And 
Cushi bowed himself unto Joab, and ran. 22 Then said 
Ahimaaz the son of Zadok yet again to Joab, But howso- 
ever, let me, I pray thee, also run after Cushi. And Joab 
said, Wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing that thou 
hast no tidings ready ? 23 But howsoever, said he, let me 
run. And he said unto him, Run. Then Ahimaaz ran 
by the way of the plain, and overran Cushi. 24 And Da- 
yid sat between the two gates : and the watchman went up 



Ex. 37.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 275 

to the roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his 
eyes, and looked, and behold a man running alone. 25 And 
the watchman cried, and told the king. And the king said, 
If he be alone there is tidings in his mouth. And he came 
apace, and drew near. 26 And the watchman saw another 
man running : and the watchman called unto the porter 
and said, Behold, another man running alone. And the 
king said, He also brihgeth tidings. 27 And the Watch- 
man said, Methinketh the running of the foremost is like 
the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok. And the king 
said, He is a good man, and cometh with good tidings. 
28 And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king, All is well. 
And he fell down to the earth upon his face before the king, 
and said, Blessed be the Lord thy God, which hath deliver- 
ed up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the 
king. 29 And the king said, Is the young man Absalom 
safe? Ahimaaz answered, When Joab sent the king's ser- 
vant, and me thy servant, I saw a great tumult, but I knew 
not what it was. 30 And the king said unto him, Turn 
aside, and stand here. And he turned aside, and stood 
still. 31 And behold, Cushi came ; and Cushi said, Ti- 
dings, my lord the king : for the Lord hath avenged thee 
this day of all them that rose up against thee. 32 And the 
king said unto Cushi, Is the young man Absalom safe? 
And Cushi answered, The enemies of my lord the king, 
and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, be as that 
young man is. 

33 And the king was much moved, and went up to the 
chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he 
said, O my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would 
God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! 

37 Hamlet and Horatio. 

Hor. Hail to your lordship ! 

Ham. I am glad to see you well : (approaches.) 

Horatio ! or do I forget myself. 

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. 
5 Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name 

with you. 
And what makes you from Wittenberg, Horatio 1 



276 exercises. [Ex. 37. 

Hor. A truant disposition, good, my lord. 

Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ; 
10 Nor shall you do mme ear that violence, 
To make it truster of your own report 
Against yourself. I know you are no truant : 
But what is your affair in Elsinore 1 
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. 
15 Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. 

Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow-student ; 
I think it was to see my mother's wedding. 

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. 

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ! the funeral baked meats 
20 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven, 
Or ever T had seen that day, Horatio ! 
My father Methinks I see my father 

Hor. Where, my lord ? 
25 Ham. In my mind's eye, Haratio. 

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king. 

Ham. He was a man take him for all in all, 
I shall not look upon his like again. 

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. 
30 Ham. Saw ! who ? 

Hor. My lord, the king, your father. 

Hor. Season your admiration for a while, 
With an attent ear ; till I may deliver, 
35 Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
This marvel to you. 

Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear. 

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, 
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, 
40 In the dead waste and middle of the night, 

Been thus encountered : A figure like your father, 
Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pe, 
Appears before them, and, with solemn march, 
Goes slow and stately by them ; thrice he walked 
45 By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes, 

Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they (distilled 
Almost to jelly with the act of fear) 
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. 



\ 



Ex. 37.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 277 

Ham. But where was this ? 
50 Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch' d. 
Ham. Did you not speak to it ? 
Hor. My lord, I did ; 
But answer made it none. Yet once, methought, 
It lifted up its head, and did address 
55 Itself to motion, like as it would speak ; 

But, even then, the morning, cock crew loud ; 
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, 
And vanished from our sight. 
Ham. 'Tis very strange ! 
60 Hor. As I do live ; my honored lord, 'tis true ; 
And we did think it writ down in our duty, 
To let you know of it. 

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sir, but this troubles me. 
Hold you the watch to-night ? 
65 Hor. We do, my lord. 
Ham. Armed, say you ( 
Hor. Armed, my lord. 
Ham. From top to toe 1 
Hor. My lord, from head to foot. 
70 Ham. Then saw you not his face ? 

Hor. O yes, my lord : he wore his beaver up. 
Ham. What, looked lie frowningly? 
Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. 
Ham. Pale, or red 1 
75 Hor. Nay, very pale. 

Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you 1 
Hor. Most constantly. 
Ham. I would, I had been there. 
Hor. It would have much amazed you. 
80 Ham. Very like, very like ; staid it long? 

Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hun- 
dred. 
Ham. His beard was grizzled ? — no 1 — 
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
85 A sable silvered. 

Ham. I'll watch to-night; perchance 'twill walk again, 
Hor. I warrant you, it will. 
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person, 
24 



i 



278 exercises. [Ex. 38. 

I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, 
90 And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, sir, 

If you have hitherto concealed this sight, 

Let it be tenable in your silence still ; 

And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, 

Give it an understanding, but no tongue ; 
95 I will requite your love : so, fare you well. 

Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, 

I'll visit you. Shakspeare. 

38. An idea of faith impressed on a child. 

Children are very early capable of impression. I im- 
printed on my daughter the idea of faith, at a very early 
age. She was playing one day with a few beads, which 
seemed to delight her wonderfully. Her whole soul 
5 was absorbed in her beads. I said — " My dear, you 
have some pretty beads there." — " Yes, Papa !" — " And 
you seem to be vastly pleased with them." — " Yes, 
Papa !" — " Well now, throw 'em behind the fire." The 
tears started into her eyes. She looked earnestly at 

10 me, as though she ought to have a reason for such a 
cruel sacrifice. " Well, my dear, do as you please : 
but you know I never told you to do any thing, which 
I did not think would be good for you." She look- 
ed at me a few moments longer, and then — summon- 

15 ing up all her fortitude — her breast heaving with the 
effort — she dashed them into the fire. — " Well," said 
I ; " there let them lie : you shall hear more about them 
another time ; but say no more about them now." 
Some days after, I bought her a box full of larger beads, 

20 and toys of the same kind. When I returned home, I 
opened the treasure and set it before her : she burst 
into tears with ecstasy. "Those, my child," said I, 
" are yours : because you believed me, when I told you 
it would be better for you to throw those two or three 

25 paltry beads behind the fire. Now that has brought 
you this treasure. But now, my dear, remember, as 
long as you live, what Faith is. I did all this to teach 
you the meaning of Faith. You threw your beads 
away when I bid you, because you had faith in me, that 



»Jk\ 



Ex. 39, 40.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 279 

30 I never advised you but for your good. Put the same 
confidence in God. Believe every thing that he says 
in his word. Whether you understand it or not, have 
faith in him that he means your good." Cecil. 

39. Conversation. 

Dnbius is such a scrupulous good man — 

Yes — you may catch him tripping if you can. 

He would not, with a peremptory tone, 

Assert the nose upon his face his own ; 
5 With hesitation admirably slow, 

Pie humbly hopes — presumes — it may f>e so. 

His evidence, if he were called by law 

To swear to some enormity he saw, 

For want of prominence and just relief, 
10 Would hang an honest man, and save a thief. 

Through constant dread of giving truth offence, 

He ties up all his hearers in suspense ; 

Knows, what he knows, as if he knew it not; 

What he remembers, seems to have forgot ; 
15 His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall, 

Centering at last in having none at all. 

Yet, though he tease and baulk your listening ear, 

He makes one useful point exceeding clear ; 

Howe'er ingenious on his darling theme 
20 A sceptic in philosophy may seem, 

Reduced to practice, his beloved rule 

Would only prove him a consummate fool ; 

Useless in him alike both brain and speech, 

Fate having placed all truth above his reach, 
25 His ambiguities his total sum, 

He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb, 

Cowper. 

40. Conversation. 

Some fretful tempers wince at every touch, 
You always do too little or too much : 
You speak with life, in hopes to entertain, 
Your elevated voice goes through the brain ; 



280 exercises. [Ex. 40. 

5 You fall at once into a lower key, 

That's worse — the drone-pipe of an humblebee. 

The southern sash admits too strong a light, 

You rise and drop the curtain — now 'tis night. 

He shakes with cold — you stir the fire and strive 
10 To make a blaze — that's roasting him alive. 

Serve him with venison, and he chooses fish ; 

With sole — that's just the sort he does not wish. 

He takes what he at first professed to loathe, 

And in due time feeds heartily on both ; 
15 Yet still o'erclouded with a constant frown, 

He does not swallow, but he gulps it down. 

Your hope to please him vain on every plan, 

Himself should work that wonder, if he can — 

Alas ! his efforts double his distress, 
20 He likes yours little, and his own still less. 

Thus always teasing others, always teased, 

His only pleasure is — to be displeased. 
I pity bashful men, who feel the pain 

Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, 
25 And bear the marks upon a blushing face 

Of needless shame, and self-imposed disgrace. 

Our sensibilities are so acute, 

The fear of being silent makes us mute. 

We sometimes think we could a speech produce 
30 Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose ; 

But being tried, it dies upon the lip, 

Faint as a chicken's note that has the pip : 

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns, 

Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns. 
35 The circle formed, we sit in silent state, 

Like figures drawn upon a dial plate ; 

Yes ma'am, and no ma'am, uttered softly, show 

Every five minutes how the minutes go ; 

Each individual, suffering a constraint, 
40 Poetry may, but colors cannot paint ; 

As if in close committee on the sky, 

Reports it hot or cold, or wet. or dry ; 

And finds a changing clime a happy source 

Of wise reflection and well timed discourse. 
45 We next inquire, but softly and by stealth, 



Ex.41.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 281 

Like conservators of the public health, 

Of epidemic throats, if such there are, 

And coughs, and rheums, and phthisic, and catarrh. 

That theme exhausted, a wide chasm ensues, 

50 Filled up at last with interesting news, 

Who danced with whom, and who are like to wed, 
And who is hanged, and who is brought to bed : 
But fear to call a more important cause, 
As if 'twere treason against English laws. 

55 The visit paid, with ecstasy we come, 

As from a seven years' transportation, home, 
And there resume an unembarrassed brow, 
Recovering what we lost we know not how, 

60 The faculties, that seemed reduced to nought, 
Expression and the privilege of thought. 

Cowper. 

41. Lady Percy to her husband. 

Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
And start so often when thou sit'st alone ? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
5 And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy 1 
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 

10 Cry, Courage ! — to the field ! And thou hast talk'd 
Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, 
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, 

15 And all the currents of a heady fight. 

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
That beads' of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream ; 

20 And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
24* 



282 exercises [Ex. 42. 

On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are 

these 1 
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
25 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 

Shakspeare. 

42. The exercise, of the Memory in learning not sufficient. 

To learn, seems, with many, to imply no more than 
a bare exercise of memory. To read, and to remember 
is, they imagine, all they have to do. I affirm on the 
contrary that a great deal more is necessary, as to exer- 
5 cise the judgment and the discursive faculty. I shall 
put the case, that one were employed to teach you alge- 
bra ; and instead of instructing you in the manner of 
stating and resolving algebraic equations, he should 
think it incumbent on him, only to inform you of all the 

10 principal problems, that had at any time exercised the 
art of the most famous algebraists, and the solutions 
they had given ; and being possessed of a retentive mem- 
ory, I shall suppose, you have a distinct remembrance 
both of the questions and the answers ; could ye for 

15 this, be said to have learnt algebra ? No, surely. To 
teach you that ingenious and useful art, is to instruct 
you in those principles, by the proper application of 
which, you shall be enabled to solve the questions for 
yourselves. In like manner, to teach you to understand 

20 the scriptures, is to initiate you into those general prin- 
ciples, which will gradually enable you of yourselves, 
to enter into their sense and spirit. It is not to make 
you repeat by rote the judgments of others, but to 
bring you to form judgments of your own ; to see with 

25 your own eyes, and not with other people's. I shall 
conclude this prelection with the translation of a short 
passage from the Persian letters, which falls in entirely 
with ray present subject. Rica having been to visit 
the library of a French convent, writes thus to his friend 

30 in Persia concerning what had passed. Father, said I 
to the librarian, what are these huge volumes which fill 
the whole side of the library 1 These, said he, are the 
Interpreters of the scriptures. There is a prodigious 



Ex. 43.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 283 

number of them, replied I ; the scriptures must have 

35 been very dark formerly, and very clear at present. 
Do there remain still any doubts ? Are there now any 
points contested ? Are there, answered he with sur- 
prise, Are there ? There are almost as many as there 
are lines. You astonish me, said I, what then have all 

40 these authors been doing ? These authors, returned 
he, never searched the scriptures, for what ought to be 
believed, but for what they did believe themselves. 
They did not consider them as a book, wherein were 
contained the doctrines which they ought to receive, 

45 but as a work which might be made to authorize their 
own ideas. For this reason, they have corrupted all 
the meanings, and have put every passage to the tor- 
ture, to make it speak their own sense. 'Tis a country 
whereon people of all sects make invasions, and go for 

50 pillage ; it is a field of battle where, when hostile na- 
tions meet, they engage, attack and skirmish in a thou- 
sand different ways. Campbell, 

43. Casablanca* 

1 The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 
Shone round him o'er the dead. 

2 The flames roll'd on — he would not go, 

Without his father's word ; 
That father, faint in death below, 
His voice no longer heard. 

3 He call'd aloud — " Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done?" 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 
Unconscious of his son. 

* Young* Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the 
admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the 
Nile,) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been 
abandoned ; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the 
flames had reached the powder. 



284 



EXERCISES. 



[Ex. 44. 



4 " Speak, Father ! once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone !" 
— And but the booming shots replied, 
And fast the flames rolled on. 

5 They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 
Like banners in the sky. 

6 There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ? 
— Ask of the winds that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea ! 

7 With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 

That well had borne their part — 
But the noblest thing that perish'd there, 
Was that young faithful heart. 

Mrs. Hemans. 



44. 



Fltz James and Roderick Dhu. 



With cautious step, and ear awake, 

He climbs the crag, and threads the brake ; 

And not the summer solstice, there, 

Temper'd the midnight mountain air, 
5 But every breeze that swept the wold, 

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold, 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Famish'd and chilled, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 
10 Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 

Beside its embers red and clear, 

Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer ; 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 
15 " Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand !" 

" A stranger." — " What dost thou require?"— 

" Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost, 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost." — 



Ex, 45.'] FAMILIAR PIECES. 285 

20 " Art thou a friend to Roderick 7"--" No." 
" Thou darest not call thyself a foe V — 
" I dare ! to him and all the band 
He brings to aid his murderous hand." — 
" Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 

25 The privilege of chase may claim, 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 
Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, 
Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, 
The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? 

30 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
Who say thou earnest a secret spy !" — 
" They do, by heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhu, 
And of his clan the boldest two, 
And let me but till morning rest, 

35 I write the falsehood on their crest." — 
" If by the blaze I mark aright, 
Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 
" Then, by these tokens may'st thou know, 
Each proud oppressor's mortal foe," — 

40 " Enough, enough; sit down and share 

A. soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." Scott. 

45. Address to the Mummy. 

1 And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story !) 

In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, 
When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, , 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

2 Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted Dummy, 

Thou hast a tongue — come, let us hear its tune : 
Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy ! 

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features, 

3 Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect, 

To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame ? 
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 



286 exercises. [Ex.45. 

Of either Pyramid that bears his name 1 
Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer 1 
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

4 Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 

By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade ; 
Then say what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played 1 
Perhaps thou wert a Priest — if so, my struggles 
Are vain ; — Egyptian priests ne'er own'd their juggles. 

5 Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 

Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh glass to glass ; 
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, 

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 

6 I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 

Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled, 
For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 

Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : — 
Antiquity appears to have begun 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 

7 Since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ; 
The Roman empire has begun and ended ; 

New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, 
And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

8 Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head 

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 
March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 

O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 

9 If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold :— 
A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 
And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled ; — • 



Ex. 46.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 287 

Have children climb'd those knees, and kiss'd that face? 
What was thy name and station, age and race ? 

10 Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead ! 

Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 

And standest undecayed within our presence. 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning, 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 

11 Why should this worthless tegument endure, 

If its undying guest be lost forever? 
O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 

In living virtue ; that when both must sever, 
Although corruption may our frame consume, 
Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 

46. Othello and Iago. 

Iago. My noble lord 

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago? 
Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my lady, 
Know of your love? 
5 Oth. He did, from first to last. Why dost thou ask ? 

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought ; 
No further harm. 

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago ? 
Iago. I did not think, he had been acquainted with her. 
10 Oth. O yes ; and went between us very oft. 
Iago. Indeed ? 

Oth. Indeed ! ay, indeed : — Discern'st thou aught in 
that? 
Is he not honest ? 
15 Iago. Honest, my lord ? 
Oth. Ay, honest. 
Iago. My lord, for aught I know. 
Oth. What dost thou think ? 
Iago. Think, my lord ? 
20 Oth. Think, my lord ! Why, thou dost echo me, 
As if there were some monster in thy thought 
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something ; 



';)■ 



288 exercises. [Ex. 46. 

I heard thee say but now, " thou lik'dst not that," 

When Cassio left ray wife. What didst not like ? 

25 And when I told thee, he was of my counsel 

In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, " Indeed !" 
And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, 

30 Show me thy thought. 

logo. My lord, you know I love you. 
Oth. I think, thou dost : 
And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, 
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, 

35 Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
For such things, in a false, disloyal knave, 
Are tricks of custom ; but, in a man that's just, 
They are close denotements working from the heart, 
That passion cannot rule. 

40 lago. For Michael Cassio, 

I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. 
Oth. I think so too. 
Iago. Men should be what they seem ; 
Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none ! 

45 Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. 

Iago. Why then, I think that Cassio is an honest man. 
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this : 
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, 
As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst of thoughts 

50 The worst of words. 

Iago. Good, my lord, pardon me ; 
Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
Utter my thoughts 1 — Why, say, they are vile and false ; 

55 As where's that palace, where in to foul things 

Sometimes intrude not? Who has a breast so pure, 

But some uncleanly apprehensions 

Keep leets, and law-days, and in sessions sit 

With meditations lawful ? Shakspearc. 



Ex. 47.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 289 

47. Macduff. 

Macd. See, who comes here ? 
Mai. My countryman ; but yet I know him not. 
Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. 
Mai. I know him now. Pray heaven, betimes remove 
5 The means that make us strangers ! 
Rosse. Sir, Amen. 

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ? 
Rosse. Alas, poor country ! 
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot 
10 Be called our mother, but our grave; where nothing, 
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; 
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, 
Are made, not marked : where violent sorrow seems 
A modern ecstasy ; the dead man's knell 
15 Is there scarce asked, for whom ; and good men's lives 
Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
Dying, or e'er they sicken. 

Macd. O, relation, 
Too nice, and yet too true ! 
20 Mai. What is the newest grief 1 

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker. 
Each minute teems a new one. 
Macd. How does my wife 1 
Rosse. Why, well. 
25 Macd. And all my children ? 
Rosse. Well too. 

Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace ? 
Rosse. No ; they were well at peace, when I did leave 

them. 
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech ; how goes it ? 

30 Rosse. I have words, 

That would be howled out in the desert air, 
Where hearing should not latch them. 

Macd. What concern they ? 
The general cause 1 or is it a fee-grief, 
35 Due to some single breast? 

Rosse. No mind, that's honest, 
But in it shares some woe ; though the main part 
Pertains to you alone. 
25 



290 exercises. [Ex. 48. 

Macd. If it be mine, 
40 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, 
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound 
That ever yet they heard. 
Macd. Ah ! I guess at it. 
45 Rosse. Your castle is surprised ; your wife and babes 
Savagely slaughtered : to relate the manner, 
Were, on the quarry of these murdered deer, 
To add the death of you. 
Mai. Merciful heaven ! 
50 What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; 
Give sorrow words : the grief, that does not speak, 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 
Macd. My children too? — 

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that could be 
found. 
55 Macd. And I must be from thence ! my wife killed 
too? 
Rosse. I have said. 
Mai. Be comforted : 
Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, 
To cure this deadly grief. 
60 Macd. I shall do so ; 

But I must also feel it as a man. 
I cannot but remember such things were, 
That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, 
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
(55 They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now ! 

Shakspeare. 
48. William Tell. 

Goaler, the tyrant, Samem, his officer, and William Tell, a Swiss peasant. 

Sar. Down, slave, upon thy knees before the governor, 
And beg for mercy. 

Ges. Does he hear ? 

Sar. He does, but braves thy power. [ To Tell] 
Down, slave, 
And ask for life. 



Ex. 48.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 291 

5 Ges. [To Tell] Why speakest thou not ? 
Tell. For Wonder. 
Ges. Wonder? 

Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man. 
Ges. What should I seem t 
10 Tell. A monster. 

Ges. Ha ! Beware ! — think on thy chains. 
Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me 
down 
Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up 
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride 
15 Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth, 

Thou art a monster. — Think on my chains ! 
How came they on me ? 

Ges. Darest thou question me ? 
Tell. Darest thou answer ? 
20 Ges. Beware my vengeance. 

Tell. Can it more than kill ? 
Ges. And is not that enough ? 
Tell. No, not enough : — 
It cannot take away the grace of life — 
25 The comeliness of look that virtue gives — 
Its port erect, with consciousness of truth — 
Its rich attire of honorable deeds — 
Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues : — 
It cannot lay its hand on these, no more 
30 Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, 
Or with polluted finger tarnish it. 
Ges. But it can make thee writhe. 
Tell. It may, and I may say, 
Go on, though it should make me groan again. 
35 Ges. Whence comest thou 1 
Tell. From the mountains. 
Ges. Canst tell me any news from them ? 
Tell. Ay ; — they watch no more the avalanche. 
Ges. Why so ? 
40 Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane 

Comes unawares upon them ; from its bed 
The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track. 
Ges. What then ? 



292 



EXERCISES. 



[Ex. 48. 



45 Tell. They thank kind Providence it is not thou. 

Thou hast perverted nature in them. The earth 
Presents her fruits to them, and is not thanked. 
The harvest sun is constant, and they scarce 
Return his smile. Their flocks and herds increase, 
50 And they look on as men who count a loss. 

There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but 
The thought of thee doth wither to a curse, 
As something they must lose, and had far better 
Lack. 
55 Ges. 'Tis well. I'd have them as their hills 
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt 
Them e'er so much. 

Tell. But they do sometimes smile. 
Gcs. Ah ! — when is that ? 
60 Tell. When they do pray for vengeance. 

Ges. Dare they pray for that ? 
Tell. They dare, and they expect it, too. 
Ges. From whence ? 

Tell. From Heaven, and their true hearts. 
65 Ges. [To Sarnem,] Lead in his son. Now will I take 

Exquisite vengeance. [ To Tell, as the boy enters.'] I have 
destined him 
To die along with thee. 

Tell. To die ! for what ? he's but a child. 
70 Ges. He's thine, however. 
Tell. He is an only child. 
Ges. So much the easier to crush the race. 
Tell. He may have a mother. 
Ges. So the viper hath — 
75 And yet who spares it for the mother's sake 1 

Tell. I talk to stone. I'll talk to it no more. 
Come, my boy, I taught thee how to live, — 
I'll teach thee how to die. 

Ges. But first, I'd see thee make 
80 A trial of thy skill with that same bow. 
Thy arrows never miss, 'tis said. 
Tell. What is the trial ? 

Gcs. Thou look'st upon thy boy as though thou guess- 
est it. 
85 Tell. Look upon my boy ! What mean you ? 



U 



Ex. 48.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 29o 

Look upon my boy as though I guess'd it ! — 
Guessed the trial thou'dst have me make ! — 
Guessed it instinctively ! Thou dost not mean — 
No, no — Thou wouldst not have me make 
90 A trial of my skill upon my child ! 

Impossible ! I do not guess thy meaning. 

Ges. I'd see thee hit an apple on his head, 
Three hundred paces off. 
Tell. Great Heaven ! 
95 -Ges. On this condition only will I spare 
His life and thine. 

Tell. Ferocious monster ! make a father 
Murder his own child ! 

Ges. Dost thou consent ? 
100 Tell. With his own hand !— 

The hand I've led him when an infant by ! 
My hands are free from blood, and have no gust 
For it, that they should drink my child's. 
I'll not murder my boy for Gesler. 
105 Boy. You will not hit me, father. You'll be sure 
To hit the apple. Will you not save me, father 1 
Tell. Lead me forth — I'll make the trial. 

Boy. Father 

Tell. Speak not to me ; — 
110 Let me not hear thy voice — Thou must be dumb. 
And so should all things be — Earth should be dumb, 
And Heaven, unless its thunder muttered at 
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it. — 
Give me my bow and quiver. 
115 Ges. When all is ready. Sarnem, measure hence 
The distance — three hundred paces. 
Tell. Will he do it fairly ! 
Ges. What is't to thee, fairly or not 1 
Tell, [sarcastically .] O, nothing, a little thins. 
120 A very little thing ; I only shoot 
At my child ! 

[Sarnem prepares to measure.] 
Tell. Villain, stop ! You measure against the sun. 
Ges. And what of that ? 
125 What matter whether to or from the sun ? 
25* 



294 exercises. [Ex. 48. 

Tell. I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine 
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots — 
I will not shoot against the sun. 

Ges. Give him his way [Sarnem paces and goes out.] 
130 Tell. I should like to see the apple I must hit. 

Ges. [Picks out the smallest one.] There, take that. 
Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 
Ges. I know I have. Thy skill will be 
The greater if thou hittest it. 
135 Tell, [sarcastically.] True—True! I did not think 
of that. 
I wonder 1 did not think of that. A larger one 
Had given me a chance to save my boy. — 
Give me my bow. Let me see my quiver. 
140 Ges. Give him a single arrow. [To an attendant.] 
[Tell looks at it and breaks it.] 
Tell. Let me see my quiver. It is not 
One arrow in a dozen I would use 
To shoot with at a dove, much less a dove 
145 Like that. 

Ges. Show him the quiver. 
[Sarnem returns and takes the apple and the boy to 
place them. While this is doing, Tell conceals an 
arroio under his garment. He then selects another 
arrow, and says,] 
150 Tell. Is the boy ready ? Keep silence now 
For Heaven's sake, and be my witnesses, 
That if his life's in peril from my hand, 
'Tis only for the chance of saving it. 
155 For mercy's sake keep motionless and silent. 

[He aims and shoots in the direction of the boy. In a 
moment Sarnem enters with the apple on the arrow's 
point.] 

Sarnem. The boy is safe. 
160 Tell. [Raising his arms.] Thank Heaven ! 

[As he raises his arms, the concealed arrow falls.] 
Ges. [Picking it up.] Unequalled archer ! why was 

this concealed ? 
Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain 1 my boy. 



Ex. 49, 50.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 295 

49. JSathan's Parable. 

And the Lord sent Nathan unto David ; and he went 
unto him, and said unto him, 

" There were two men in one city ; the one rich, and 
the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many 
5 flocks and herds : But the poor man had nothing save 
one little ewe lamb, which he had bought, and nourished 
up ; and it grew up together with him, and with his 
children ; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his 
own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a 
10 daughter. 

" And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and 

he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, 

to dress for the way-faring man that was come unto him ; 

but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man 

15 that was come unto him." 

And David's anger was greatly kindled against the 
man ; and he said to Nathan, 

" As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this 
thing shall surely die : And he shall restore the lamb 
20 fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had 
no pity." 

And Nathan said unto David, " Thou art the man." 

50. Harmony among brethren. 

Two brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having 
quarrelled with each other, Socrates, their common 
friend was solicitous to restore amity between them. 
Meeting, therefore, with Demetrius, he thus accosted 
5 him ; " Is not friendship the sweetest solace in adver- 
sity, and the greatest enhancement of the blessings of 
prosperity ?" " Certainly it is," replied Demetrius ; 
" because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys 
increased, by sympathetic participation." ** Amongst 
10 whom, then, must we look for a friend ?" said Socrates : 
" Would you search among strangers ? They cannot 
be interested about you. Amongst your rivals? They 
have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those 
who are much older, or younger than yourself? Their 



296 exercises. [Ex. 50. 

20 feelings and pursuits will be widely different from yours. 
Are there not, then, some circumstances favorable, 
and others essential, to the formation of friendship?" 
" Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius.*' May 
we not enumerate," continued Socrates, '*' amongst the 
25 circumstances favorable to friendship, long acquaint- 
ance, common connexions, similitude of age, and union 
of interest ?" " I acknowledge," said Demetrius, " the 
powerful influence of these circumstances : but they 
may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essen- 

30 tial to mutual amity." " And what," said Socrates, "are 
those essentials which are wanting in Timon ?" * He 
has forfeited my esteem and attachment," answered 
Demetrius. " And has he also forfeited the esteem and 
attachment of the rest of mankind ?" continued Soera- 

35 tes. " Is he devoid of benovolence, generosity, grati- 
tude, and other social affections?" " Far be it from 
me," cried Demetrius, " to lay so heavy a charge upon 
him. His conduct to others, is, I believe, irreproacha- 
ble ; and it wounds me the more, that he should single 

40 me out as the object of his unkindness." " Suppose 
you have a very valuable horse," resumed Socrates, 
"gentle under the treatment of others, but ungoverna- 
ble, when you attempt to use him ; would you not en- 
deavor, by all means, to conciliate his affections, and 

45 to treat him in the way most likely to render him tract- 
able ? — Or, if you have a dog, highly prized for his 
fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, who is 
fond of your shepherds, and playful with them, and yet 
snarls whenever you come in his way ; would you at- 

50 tempt to cure him of his fault, by angry looks or words, 
or by any other marks of resentment ? You would sure- 
ly pursue an opposite course with him. And is not the 
friendship of a brother of far more worth, than the ser- 
vices of a horse, or the attachment of a dog ? Why, 

55 then, do you delay to put in practice those means, which 
may reconcile you to Timon?" " Acquaint me with 
those means," answered Demetrius, " for I am a stran- 
ger to them." " Answer me a few questions," said Soc- 
rates. " If you desire that one of your neighbors 



Ex. 51.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 297 

60 should invite you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, 
what course would you take?" — "I would first invite 
him to mine." " And how would you induce him to 
take the charge of your affairs when you are on a jour- 
ney V 9 — " I should be forward to do the same good 

65 office to him, in his absence." " If you be solicitous 
to remove a prejudice, which he may have received 
against you, how would you then behave towards him V 9 
— " I should endeavor to convince him, by my looks, 
words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill-founded." 

70 " And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would 
you reproach him with the injustice he had done you V 9 
— " No," answered Demetrius ; " I would repeat no 
grievances." " Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that 
conduct towards your brother, which you would practise 

75 to a neighbor. His friendship is of inestimable worth ; 
and nothing is more lovely in the sight of Heaven, than 
for brethren to dwell together in unity." 

Percival. 

51. Harhy's Death. 

" There are some remembrances (said Harley) which 
rise involuntarily on my heart, and make me almost 
wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, 
who redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with 

5 the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have 
passed among them — but we shall meet again, my friend, 
never to be separated. There are some feelings which 
perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world. The 
world, in general, is selfish, interested, and unthinking, 

10 and throws the imputation of romance, or melancholy, 
on every temper more susceptible than its own. I can- 
not but think, in those regions which I contemplate, if 
there is any thing of mortality left about us, that these 
feelings will subsist : — they are called — perhaps they 

15 are — weaknesses, here ; — but there may be some better 
modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the 
name of virtues." Resigned, as he spoke these last 
words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door 
opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. 



298 exercises. [Ex. 51. 

20 " My dear (says she) here is Miss Walton, who has 
been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself." 
I could perceive a transient glow upon his face. He 
rose from his seat. — " If to know Miss Walton's good- 
ness (said he) be a title to deserve it, I have some 

25 claim." She begged him to resume his seat, and plac- 
ed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my leave. 
His aunt accompanied me to the door. He was left 
with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously after 
his health. " I believe (said he) from the accounts 

30 which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have 
no great hopes of my recovery." — She started, as he 
spoke ; but, recollecting herself immediately, endeav- 
ored to flatter him into a belief, that his apprehensions 
were groundless. " I know (said he) that it is usual 

35 with persons at my time of life, to have these hopes 
which your kindness suggests ; but I would not wish to 
be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a 
privilege bestowed on few : I would endeavor to make 
it mine : — nor do I think, that I can ever be better pre- 

40 pared for it than now ; — 'tis that chiefly, which deter- 
mines the fitness of its approach." " Those sentiments," 
answered Miss Walton, " are just ; but your good sense, 
Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value. — 
As the province of virtue, life is ennobled ; as such, it 

45 is to be desired. — To virtue has the Supreme Director 
of all things assigned rewards enough, even here, to fix 
its attachments." 

The subject began to overpower her. — Harley lifted 
up his eyes from the ground — " There are (said he, 
in a low voice) — there are attachments, Miss Walton." 

50 — His glance met hers — they both betrayed a confu- 
sion, and were both instantly withdrawn. — He paused 
some moments.—" I am (he said) in such a state as 
calls for sincerity : let that alone excuse it — it- is, per- 
haps, the last time we shall ever meet. I feel some- 

55 thing particularly solemn in the acknowledgment ; yet 
my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of 
my presumption, — by a sense of your perfections." — He 
paused again—" Let it not offend you, (he resumed,) 



,k 



Ex. 52.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 299 

to know their power over one so unworthy. My heart 

60 will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feel- 
ing which it shall lose the latest. — To love Miss Walton 
could not be a crime. — If to declare it is one, the ex- 
piation will be made." Her tears were now flowing 
without control. — " Let me entreat you (said she) to 

65 have better hopes — let not life be so indifferent to you ; 
if my wishes can put any value upon it — I will not pre- 
tend to misunderstand you — I know your worth — I have 
long known it — I have esteemed it — what would you 
have me say 1 — I have loved it, as it deserved !" He 

70 seized her hand : — a languid color reddened his cheek 
— a smile brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed 
on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closed — he sighed, and 
fell back on his seat — Miss Walton screamed at the 
sight — his aunt and the servants rushed into the room 

75 — they found them lying motionless together. — His phy- 
sician happened to call at that instant — every art was 
tried to recover them — with Miss Walton they succeed- 
ed — but Harley was gone for ever. 

Mackenzie. 

52. To-Morrow. 

To-morrow, didst thou say ? 
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. 
Go to — I will not hear of it — To-morrow. 
5 Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury 

5 Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash, 

And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes and promises, 
The currency of idiots — injurious bankrupt, 
That gulls the easy creditor ! — To-morrow ! 
It is a period nowhere to be found 
10 In all the hoary registers of Time, 

Unless, perchance, in the fool's calendar. 
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 
With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father ; 

15 Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless 
As the fantastic visions of the evening. 

But soft, my friend — arrest the present moment : 



300 exercises. [Ex. 52. 

For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales : 
And though their flight be silent, and their path 

20 Trackless as the wing'd couriers of the air, 

They post to heaven, and there record thy folly, 
Because, though station'd on th' important watch, 
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel, 
Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd. 

25 And know, for that thou slumb'rest on the guard, 
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
For every fugitive : and when thou thus 
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 
Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit? 

30 Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio, 
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. 
O ! let it not elude thy grasp ; but, like 

35 The good old patriarch upon record, 

Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. 

Cotton. 



i 



SECULAR ELOQUENCE, 



53. The Perfect Orator. 

Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the 
most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point 
whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations de- 
pended — How awful such a meeting ! how vast the sub- 
5 ject ! — Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great 
occasion ? — Adequate ! Yes, superior. By the power 
of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost 
in the dignity of the orator ; and the importance of the 
subject, for a while, superseded by the admiration of 

10 his talents. With what strength of argument, with what 
powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, 
does he assault and subjugate the whole man ; and, at 
once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his pas- 
sions ! To effect this, must be the utmost effort of 

15 the most improved state of human nature. — Not a fac- 
ulty that he possesses, is here unemployed ; not a fac- 
ulty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest 
pitch. All his internal powers are at work ; all his ex- 
ternal testify their energies. Within, the memory, the 

20 fancy, the judgment, the passions, are all busy ; with- 
out, every muscle, every nerve is exerted ; not a fea- 
ture, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the body, 
attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kin- 
dred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those 

25 energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diver- 
sity of minds in such a multitude ; by the lightning of 
eloquence, they are melted into one mass — the whole 
assembly, actuated in one and the same way, become, 
as it were, but one man, and have but one voice — The 

30 universal cry is — Let us march against Philip, let 

US FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES LET US CONQUER OR DIE ! 

Sheridan, 
28 



302 



EXERCISES. 



Ex. 54, 55. 



54. Character of True Eloquence. 

When public bodies are to be addressed on momen- 
tous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and 
strong passions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, 
farther than it is connected with high intellectual and 
5 moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness 
are the qualities which produce conviction. True elo- 
, quence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot 
be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may 

10 be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. 
It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the oc- 
casion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp 
of declamation, all may aspire after it — they cannot reach 
it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of 

15 a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of vol- 
canic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. 
The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, 
and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust 
men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, 

*30 their children, and their country, hang on the decision 
of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhet- 
oric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. E- 
ven genius itself then feels rebuked, and subdued, as in 
the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is 

25 eloquent ; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear 
conception, out-running the deductions of logic, the 
high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, 
speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, inform- 
ing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 

30 right onward to his object — this, this is eloquence ; or 
rather it is something greater and higher than all elo- 
quence — it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action. 

Webster. 



55. 



The Pilgrims. 



From the dark portals of the star-chamber, and in 
the stern text of the acts of uniformity, the pilgrims 
received a commission more efficient than any that 



i 



Ex. 55.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 303 

ever bore the royal seal. Their banishment to Hol- 
5 land was fortunate ; the decline of their little company 
in the strange land was fortunate ; the difficulties 
which they experienced in getting the royal consent 
to banish themselves to this wilderness were fortunate ; 
all the tears and heart-breakings of that ever memo- 

10 rable parting at Delfthaven, had the happiest influence 
on the rising destinies of New-England. All this pu- 
rified the ranks of the settlers. These rough touches 
of fortune brushed off the light, uncertain, selfish spir- 
its. They made it a grave, solemn, self-denying ex- 

15 pedition, and required of those who engaged in it to be 
so too. They cast a broad shadow of thought and seri- 
ousness over the cause, and if this sometimes deepened 
into melancholy and bitterness, can we find no apology 
for such a human weakness 1 

20 Their trials of wandering and exile, of the ocean, 
the winter, the wilderness, and the savage foe, were 
the final assurances of success. It was these that put 
far away from our fathers' cause, all patrician softness, 
all hereditary claims to preeminence. No effeminate 

25 nobility crowded into the dark and austere ranks of 
the pilgrims. No Carr nor Villiers would lead on the 
ill provided band of despised Puritans. No well endow- 
ed clergy were on the alert, to quit their cathedrals, 
and set up a pompous hierarchy in the frozen wilder- 

30 ness. No craving governors were anxious to be sent 
over to our cheerless El Dorados of ice and of snow. 
No, they could not say they had encouraged, patronis- 
ed, or helped the pilgrims ; their own cares, their own 
labors, their own councils, their own blood, contrived 

35 all, achieved all, bore all, sealed all. They could not 
afterwards fairly pretend to reap where they had not 
strewn : and as our fathers reared this broad and solid 
fabric with pains and watchfulness, unaided, barely 
tolerated, it did not fall when the favor, which had al-> 

40 ways been withholden, was changed into wrath ; when 
the arm which had never supported, was raised to de- 
stroy. 

Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with 



304 exercises. ' [Ex. 55. 

45 the prospects of a future state, and bound across the un- 
known sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand mis- 
givings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise 
and set, and weeks and months pass, and winter sur- 
prises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight 

50 of the wished for shore. I see them now scantily sup- 
plied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in 
their ill-stored prison ; — delayed by calms, pursuing a 
circuitous route, — and now driven in fury before the 
raging tempest, on the high and giddy waves. The aw- 

55 ful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The 
laboring masts seem straining from their base; — the dis- 
mal sound of the pumps is heard ; — the ship leaps, as it 
were, madly, from billow to billow ; — the ocean breaks, 
and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, 

60 and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the 
staggered vessel. — I see them escaped from these perils, 
pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and land- 
ed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad 
rocks of Plymouth, — weak and weary from the voyage, 

65 — poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the 

charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on 

board, drinking nothing but water on shore, — without 

shelter, — without means, — surrounded by hostile tribes. 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any 

70 principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of 
this handful of adventurers. — Tell me, man of military 
science, in how many months were they all swept off 
by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the ear- 
ly limits of New-England ? Tell me, politician, how 

75 long did the shadow of a colony, on which your con- 
ventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the 
distant coast ? Student of history, compare for me the 
baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandon- 
ed adventures of other times, and find the parallel of 

SO this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the house- 
less heads of women and children ; was it hard labor 
and spare meals ; — was it disease, — was it the toma- 
hawk, — was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ru- 
ined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last 

85 moments at the recollection of the loved and left, be- 



Ex. 56.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 305 

yond the sea ; was it some, or all of these united, that 
hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate 1 
—And is it possible that neither of these causes, that 
not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope?— 
90 Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, 
so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there 
has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so won- 
derful, an expansion ~so ample, a reality so important, a 
promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious 1 .. Everett. 

56. The Progress of Poesy. 

Woods r that wave o'er Delphi's steep ; 

Isles, that crown the Egean deep ; 

Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, 

Or where Maeander's amber waves 
5 In ling'ring lab'rinths creep, 

How do your tuneful echoes languish, 

Mute but to the voice of anguish ! 

Where each old poetic mountain, 

Inspiration breath'd around ; 
10 Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain 

Murmur' d deep a solemn sound : 

Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, 

Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains : 

Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant pow'r, 
15 And coward vice, that revels in her chains. 

When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, 

They sought, O Albion ! next thy sea-encircled coast. 
Far from the sun and summer gale, 

In thy green lap was nature's darling laid, 
20 What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 

To him the mighty mother did unveil 

Her awful face ; the dauntless child 

Stretch'd forth his little arms and smil'd. 

This pencil take, (she said,) whose colors clear 
25 Richly paint the vernal year ; 

Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy ! 

This can unlock the gates of jyo; 

Of horror, that, and thrilling fears, 

Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. 
26* 



306 exercises. [Ex. 57. 

30 Nor second he, that rose sublime 

Upon the seraph wings of ecstasy, 

The secrets of th' abyss to spy. 

He pass'd the flaming bounds of space and time, 

The living throne, the sapphire blaze, 
35 Where angels tremble while they gaze, 

He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, 

Clos'd his eyes in endless night. 

Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car 

Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 
40 Two coursers of ethereal race, 

With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long resounding pace. 
Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 

Bright-eyd fancy, hov'ring o'er, 

Scatters from her pictur'd urn 
45 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 

But ah ! 'tis heard no more — 

O lyre divine ! what daring spirit 

Wakes thee now 1 Though he inherit 

Nor the pride nor ample pinion, 
50 That the Theban eagle bear, 

Sailing with supreme dominion 

Through the azure deep of air : 

Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 

Such forms as glitter in the muse's ray, 
55 With orient hues, unborrow r d of the sun; 

Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way 

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, 

Beneath the good how far — but far above the great. 

Gray. 

57. Darkness. 

I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 
The bright sun was^extinguished, and the stars 
Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 
5 Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air ; 
Morn came, and went — and came, and brought no day, 
And men forgot their passions in the dread 
Of this their desolation ; and all hearts 



L 



Ex. 57.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 307 

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light : 
10 And they did live by watchfires — and the thrones, 
The palaces of crowned kings — the huts, 
The habitations of all things which dwell, 
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, 
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes 
15 To look once more into each other's face ; 
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye 
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch : 
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd ; 
Forests were set on fire — but hour by hour 

20 They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks 
Extinguish'd with a crash — and all was black. 
The brows of men by the despairing light 
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 
The flashes fell upon them ; some lay down 

25 And hid their eyes and wept ; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd ; 
And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up 
With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 

30 The pall of a past world ; and then again 
With curses cast them down upon the dust, 
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd : the wild birds 

shriek'd, 
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, 
And flap their useless wings ; the wildest brutes 

35 Came tame and tremulous ; and vipers crawl'd 
And twined themselves among the multitude, 
Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : 
And War, which for a moment was no more, 
Did glut himself again; — a meal was bought 

40 With blood, and each sat sullenly apart 

Gorging himself in gloom : no love was left ; 
All earth was but one thought — and that was death, 
Immediate and inglorious ; and the pang 
Of famine fed upon all entrails — men 

45 Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh ; 
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd, 
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one, 
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 



308 exercises. [Ex. 58, 

The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, 

50 Till hunger clung them, or t ;the dropping dead 

Lured their lank jaws ; himself sought out no food, 
But with a piteous and perpetual moan 
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand 
Which answer' d not with a caress — he died. 

55 The crowd was famish'd by degrees ; but two 
Of an enormous city did survive, 
And they were enemies; they met beside 
The dying embers of an altar-place 
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things 

60 For an unholy usage ; they raked up, 

And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands 
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath 
Blew for a little life, and made a flame 
Which was a mockery ; then they lifted up 

65 Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 

Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — 
Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow 
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void, 

70 The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — 
A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay. 
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, 
And nothing stirred within their silent depths ; 

75 Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, 

And their masts fell down piecemeal ; as thex.dropp'd 
They slept on the abyss without a surge — 
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, 
The moon their mistress had expired before ; 

80 The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, 
And the clouds perish'd ; Darkness had no need 
Of aid from them — She was the universe. Byron. 

58. The Slave Trade. 

The land is not wholly free from the contamination of 
a traffic, at which every feeling of humanity must forever 
revolt — I mean the African slave trade. Neither public 
sentiment, nor the law, has hitherto been able entirely 



I 



■« ■ ■■ 



Ex. 58.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 309 

5 to put an end to this odious and abominable trade. At 
the moment when God, in his mercy, has blessed the 
Christian world with an universal peace, there is reason 
to fear, that, to the disgrace of the Christian name and 
character, new efforts are making for the extension of 
10 this trade, by subjects and citizens of Christian states, 
in whose hearts no sentiment of humanity or justice 
inhabits, and over whom neither the fear of God nor 
the fear of man exercises a control. In the sight of 
our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and a felon ; 

15 and in the sight of heaven, an offender far beyond the 
ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter 
part of our history, than that which records the meas- 
ures which have been adopted by the government, at 
an early day, and at different times since, for the sup- 

20 pression of this traffic ; and I would call on all the true 
sons of New-England, to co-operate with the laws of 
man, and the justice of heaven. If there be within the 
extent of our knowledge or influence, any participation 
in this traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, to extirpate 

25 and destroy it. It is not fit, that the land of the Pil- 
grims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound 
of the hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where 
manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. 
I see the visages of those, who by stealth, and at mid- 
30 night, labor in this work of hell, foul and dark, as 
may become the artificers of such instruments of mis- 
ery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it 
cease to be of New-England. Let it be purified, or let 
it be set aside from the Christian world ; let it, be put 

35 out of the circle of human sympathies and human re- 
gards, and let civilized man henceforth have no com- 
munion with it. 

I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, 
and all who minister at her altar, that they execute the 

40 wholesome and necessary severity of the law. I invoke 
the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its de- 
nunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions 
to the authority of human laws. If the pulpit be silent, 
whenever, or wherever, there may be a sinner bloody 

45 with this guilt within the hearing of its voice, the pul- 



310 exercises. [Ex. 59. 

pit is false to its trust. I call on the fair merchant, who 
has reaped his harvest upon the seas, that he assist in 
scourging from those seas the worst pirates which ever 
infested them. That ocean, which seems to wave with 

50 a gentle magnificence to waft the burdens of an honest 
commerce, and to roll along its treasures with a con- 
scious pride ; that ocean, which hardy industry regards, 
even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field 
of grateful toil ; what is it to the victim of this oppres- 

55 sion, when he is brought to its shores, and looks forth 
upon it, for the first time, from beneath chains, and 
bleeding with stripes 1 What is it to him, but a wide 
spread prospect of suffering, anguish, and death 1 Nor 
do the skies smile longer, nor is the air longer fragrant 

60 to him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An in- 
human and accursed traffic has cut him off in his man- 
hood, or in his youth, from every enjoyment belonging 
to his being, and every blessing which his Creator in- 
tended for him. Webster. 

59. Dream of Clarence. 

O, I have passed a miserable night, 

So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 

That, as T am a Christian faithful man, 

I would not spend another such a night, 
5 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days: 

So full of dismal terror was the time. 

Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, 

And was embarked to cross to Burgundy ; 

And, in my company, my brother Gloster, 
10 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 

Upon the hatches ; thence we looked toward England, 

And cited up a thousand heavy times, 

During the wars of York and Lancaster, 

That had befallen us. As we pac'd along 
15 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 

Methought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, 

Struck me, that sought to stay him, overboard, 

Into the tumbling billows of the main. 

O, then methought, what pain it was to drown ! 



Ex. 59.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 311 

90 What dreadful noise of waters in my ears ! 
What sights of ugly death within my eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon ; 
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 

25 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; 
All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
Some lay in dead men's sculls ; and, in those holes 
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, 
As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 

30 That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, 

And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 

Often did I strive 

To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 

35 To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ; 
But smother'd it within my panting bulk, 
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 

My dream was lengthened after life ; 
O, then begun the tempest to my soul ! 

40 I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, 
With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
The first that there did greet my stranger-soul ! 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; 

45 Who cried aloud " What scourge for perjury 

Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence V 1 
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood ! and he shrieked out aloud — 

50 " Clarence is come — false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
— That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury ; — 
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments !" — 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Environed me, and howled in mine ears 

55 Such hideous cries, that with the very noise, 
I trembling waked ; and, for a season after, 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 

Shakspeare. 



312 exercises. [Ex. 60. 



60. Moral Sublimity. 



-What can strive 



With virtue 1 which of nature's regions vast 
Can in so many forms produce to sight 
Such powerful beauty ; beauty which the eye 
5 Of hatred cannot look upon secure : 

Which envy's self contemplates, and is turned 
Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, 
Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair 
In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, 

10 The summer's noontide groves, the purple eve 
At harvest home, or in the frosty morn 
Glittering on some smooth sea, is aught so fair 
As virtuous friendship : as the honored roof 
Whither from highest heaven immortal love 

15 His torch ethereal and his golden bow 
Propitious brings, and there a temple holds 
To whose unspotted service gladly vowed 
The social band of parent, brother, child, 
With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds 

20 Adore his power? What gift of richest clime 
E're drew such eager eyes, or prompted such 
Deep wishes, as the zeal that snatches back 
From slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown ; 
Or crosseth danger in his lion walk, 

25 A rival's life to rescue ? as the young 
Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, 
That his great father's body might not want 
A peaceful, humble tomb ? the Roman wife 
Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound 

30 Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, 
Who nothing more could threaten to afflict 
Their faithful love ? Or is there in the abyss, 
Is there, among the adamantine spheres 
Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void, 

35 Aught that with half such majesty can fill 
The human bosom, as when Brutus rose 
Refulgent, from the stroke of Caesar's fate 
Amid the crowd of patriots ; and, his arm 



Ex. 61.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 313 

Aloft extending, like eternal Jove 
When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud 
40 On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword 
Of justice in his wrapt astonished eye, 
And bade the father of his country hail, 
For lo the tyrant prostrate on the dust — 
And Rome again is free ? Akenside. 



61. Character of Brutus. 

Ask any one man of morals, whether he approves 
of assassination ; he will answer, No. Would you kill 
your friend and benefactor ? No. The question is a 
horrible insult. Would you practice hypocrisy and 
5 smile in his face, while your conspiracy is ripening, to 
gain his confidence and to lull him into security, in or- 
der to take away his life? Every honest man, on the 
bare suggestion, feels his blood thicken and stagnate at 
his heart. Yet in this picture we see Brutus. It would, 

10 perhaps, be scarcely just to hold him up to abhorrence; 
it is, certainly, monstrous and absurd to exhibit his con- 
duct to admiration. 

He did not strike the tyrant from hatred or ambition ; 
his motives were admitted to be good ; but was not the 

15 action, nevertheless, bad ? 

To kill a tyrant, is as much murder, as to kill any 
other man. Besides, Brutus, to extenuate the crime, 
could have had no rational hope of putting an end to 
the tyranny ; he had foreseen and provided nothing to 

20 realize it. The conspirators relied, foolishly enough, 
on the love of the multitude for liberty — they loved their 
safety, their ease, their sports, and their demagogue 
favorites a great deal better. They quietly looked on, 
as spectators, and left it to the legions of Antony, and 

25 Octavius, and those of Syria, Macedonia, and Greece, 
to decide, in the field of Phillippi, whether there should 
be a republic or not. It was, accordingly, decided in 
favor of an emperor ; and the people sincerely rejoiced 
in the political calm, that restored the games of the cir- 

30 cus, and the plenty of bread. 
27 



314 exercises. [Lx. 61. 

Those who cannot bring their judgments to condemn 
the killing of a tyrant, must nevertheless agree that the 
blood of Caesar was unprofitably shed. Liberty gained 
nothing by it, and humanity lost much ; for it cost eigh- 

35 teen years of agitation and civil war, before the ambi- 
tion of the military and popular chieftains had expend- 
ed its means, and the power was concentrated in one 
man's hands. 

Shall we be told, the example of Brutus is a good one, 

40 because it will never cease to animate the race of ty- 
rant-killers — But will the fancied usefulness of assassi- 
nation overcome our instinctive sense of its horror ? Is 
it to become a part of our political morals, that the chief 
of a state is to be stabbed or poisoned, whenever a fa- 

45 natic, a malecontent, or a reformer shall rise up and 
call him a tyrant ? Then there would be as little calm 
in despotism as in liberty. 

But when has it happened, that the death of an usurp- 
er has restored to the public liberty its departed life ? 

50 Every successful usurpation creates many competitors 
for power, and they successively fall in the struggle. 
In all this agitation, liberty is without friends, without 
resources, and without hope. Blood enough, and the 
blood of tyrants too, was shed between the time of the 

55 wars of Marius and death of Antony, a period of about 
sixty years, to turn a common grist-mill ; yet the cause 
of the public liberty continually grew more and more 
desperate. It is not by destroying tyrants, that we are 
to extinguish tyranny ; nature is not thus to be exhaust- 

60 ed of her power to produce them. The soil of a repub- 
lic sprouts with the rankest fertility ; it has been sown 
with dragon's teeth. To lessen the hopes of usurping 
demagogues, we must enlighten, animate and combine 
the spirit of freemen ; we must fortify and guard the 

65 constitutional ramparts about liberty. When its friends 
become insolent or disheartened, it is no longer of any 
importance how long-lived are its enemies : they will 
prove immortal. 

Ames. 






Ex. 62.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 315 

62. Conclusion of Webster's Plymouth Discourse. 

The hours of this day are rapidly flying, and this oc- 
casion will soon be passed. Neither we nor our chil- 
dren can expect to behold its return. They are in the 
distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all- 
5 creating power of God, who shall stand here a hundred 
years hence, to trace, through us, their descent from the 
Pilgrims, and to survey, as we have now surveyed, the 
progress of their country, during the lapse of a century, 
We would anticipate their concurrence with us in our 

10 sentiments of deep regard for our common ancestors. 
We would anticipate and partake the pleasure with 
which they will then recount the steps of New-England's 
advancement On the morning of that day, although it 
will not disturb us in our repose, the voice of acclama- 

15 tion and gratitude, commencing on the rock of Ply- 
mouth, shall be transmitted through millions of the sons 
of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs of the 
Pacific seas. 

We would leave for the consideration of those who 

20 shall then occupy our places, some proof that we hold 
the blessings transmitted from our fathers in just esti- 
mation ; some proof of our attachment to the cause of 
good government, and of civil and religious liberty ; 
some proof of a sincere and ardent desire to promote 

25 every thing which may enlarge the understandings and 
improve the hearts of men. And when, from the long 
distance of an hundred years, they shall look back upon 
us, they shall know, at least, that we possessed affec- 
tions, which running backward, and warming with 

30 gratitude for what our ancestors have done for our hap- 
piness, run forward also to our posterity, and meet them 
with cordial salutation, ere yet they have arrived on the 
shore of being. 

Advance, then, ye future generations! We would 

35 hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the 
places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of 
existence, where we are passing, and soon shall have 
passed, our own human duration. We bid you wel- 
come to this pleasant land of the fathers. We bid you 



316 exercises. [Ex. 63. 

40 welcome to the healthful skies, and the verdant fields 
of New-England. We greet your accession to the great 
inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you 
to the blessings of good government, and religious lib- 
erty. We welcome you to the treasures of science, and 

45 the delights of learning. We welcome you to the trans- 
cendent sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of 
kindred, and parents, and children. We welcome you 
to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the 
immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlast- 

50 ing Truth ! 

63. Address to the Patriots of the Revolution. 

Venerable men ! you have come down to us, from 
a former generation. Heaven has bounteously length- 
ened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous 
day. You are now, where you stood, fifty years ago, 
5 this very hour, with your brothers, and your neighbors, 
shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. 
Behold, how altered ! The same heavens are indeed 
over your heads, the same ocean rolls at your feet, 
but all else, how changed ! You hear now no roar of 

10 hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and 
flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground 
strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetuous 
charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud 
call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is 

15 manly to repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms free- 
ly and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of ter- 
ror there may be in war and death ; — all these you have 
witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is 
peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers 

20 and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and 
children and countrymen in distress and terror, and 
looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the 
combat, have presented you to-day with the sight of its 
whole happy population, come out to welcome and 

25 greet you with an universal jubilee. Yonder proud 
ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the 



I 



Ex. 64.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 317 

foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around 
it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your coun- 
try's own means of distinction and defence. All is 

30 peace ; and God has granted you this sight of your 
country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave for- 
ever. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the 
reward of your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, 
your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the 

35 name of the present generation, in the name of your 
country, in the name of liberty, to thank you ! 

But, alas! you are not all here! Time and the 
sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, 
Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek 

40 for you in vain amidst this broken band. You are 
gathered to your fathers, and live only to your country 
in her grateful remembrance, and your own bright ex- 
ample. But let us not too much grieve, that you have 
met the common fate of men. You lived, at least, long 

45 enough to know that your work had been nobly and 
successfully accomplished. You lived to see your coun- 
try's independence established, and to sheathe your 
swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise 
the light of Peace, like 

50 ' another morn, 

Risen on mid-noon ;' — 

and the sky, on which you closed your eyes, was cloud- 
less. Webster, 

64. Brutus' Speech. 

Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my 

cause ; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me 

for mine honor ; and have respect to mine honor, that 

you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom ; and 

5 awake your senses, that you may the better judge. — If 

there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Ceesar's, 

to him, I say, that Brutus' love to Csssar was no less 

than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose 

against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved 

10 Ceesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you 

27* 



_ ._ ,— .-_ i. 



318 EXERCISES. [Ex. 65. 

rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that 
Caesar were dead, to live all freemen 1 As Csesar loved 
me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at 
it ; as he was valiant, I honor him ; but as he was 

15 ambitious, I slew him. There are tears, for his love ; 
joy, for his fortune ; honor, for his valor ; and death, 
for his ambition. — Who's here so base that would be a 
bondman ? if any, speak ; for him have I offended. 
Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman 1 if 

20 any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so 
vile, that will not love his country 1 if any, speak ; 
for him have I offended. — I pause for a reply : — 

None ! Then none have I offended. — I have done no 

25 more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The ques- 
tion of his death is enrolled in the capitol ; his glory not 
extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences 
enforced, for which he suffered death. 

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony ; 

30 who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive 
— the benefit of his dying — a place in the common- 
wealth ; as which of you shall not? — With this I de- 
part ; that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, 
I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please 

35 my country to need my death. Shakspeare. 

65. Chatham's Speech. 

Almost for the last time, lord Chatham displayed his 
admirable eloquence in opposing the address moved in 
the house of lords, on his late majesty's speech from 
the throne in 1778. Some censure having been ex- 
5 pressed on the employing of savages against the armies 
of the insurgent Americans, the measure was defended 
by his majesty's ministers ; and the pompous Suffolk, 
as he is described by Junius, declared that " adminis- 
tration would have been highly reprehensible, if, en- 
10 trusted as they were with the suppression of so unnatu- 
ral a rebellion, they had not used all the means to sup- 
press it which God and Nature had put into their 
hands." — Lord Chatham rose, and said : 

My lords, — I cannot, — I will not join in congratula- 



Ex. 65.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 319 

15 tion on misfortune and disgrace. This, is a perilous 
and tremendous moment — it is not a time for adulation 
— the smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rug- 
ged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct 
the throne in the language of truth. We must, if pos- 

20 sible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelope 
it ; and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, 
the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers 
still presume to expect support in their infatuation ? 
Can parliament be so dead to their dignity and duty, 

25 as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and 
forced upon them 1 Measures, which have reduced 
this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt. 

But, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgrac- 
es and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and 

30 associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife 
of the savage? to call into civilized alliance the wild 
and inhuman inhabitant of the woods ? to delegate to 
the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and 
to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 

35 brethren 1 this barbarous measure has been defended, 
not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but 
also on those of morality ; ' for it is perfectly allowable,' 
says lord Suffolk, ' to use the means God and Nature 
have- put into our hands !' I am astonished, I am 

40 shocked, to hear such principles confessed, to hear them 
avowed in the house, or this country. My lords, I did 
not intend to encroach so much on your attention ; but 
I cannot repress my indignation ; I feel myself impelled 
to speak. We are called upon as members of this house, 

45 as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible 
barbarity — ' that God and nature have put into our 
hands !' What ideas of God and Nature that noble 
lord may entertain, I know not ; but I know that such 
detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion 

50 and humanity. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction 
of God and Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalp- 
ing-knife ! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murder- 
ing, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled vic- 
tims ! Such notions shock every precept of morality, 



320 exercises. [Ex. 66. 

55 every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. 
These abominable principles, and the most abominable 
avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 
I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned 
bench, to vindicate the religion of their God. to support 

60 the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to 
interpose the sanctity of their lawn, upon the judges to 
interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this 
pollution. I call upon the honor of your lordships to 
reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and to main- 

(>o tain your own.. I call upon the spirit and humanity 
of my country to vindicate the national character. I 
invoke the Genius of the Constitution. From the tap- 
estry, that adorn these walls, the immortal ancestor of 
this noble lord frowns with indignation at the disgrace 

70 of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty, and 
establish the religion of Britain, against the tyranny of 
Rome, if these worse than popish cruelties and inquisi- 
torial practices are endured among us. To send forth 
the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood ! against 

75 whom 1 your protestant brethren ! To lay waste their 
country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their 
race and name by the aid and instrumentality of these 
horrible hell-hounds of war ! Spain can no longer boast 
pre-eminence in barbarity. She armed herself with 

80 blood-hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of Mex- 
ico ; w T e, more ruthless, loose these dogs of war against 
our countrymen in America, endeared to us by every 
tie, that can sanctify humanity. I solemnly call upon 
your lordships, and upon every order of men in the state 

85 to stamp upon the infamous procedure the indellible 
stigma of public abhorrence. More particularly, I call 
upon the holy prelates of our religion to do away this 
iniquity ; let them perform a lustration to purify the 
country from this deep and deadly sin. 

66. Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis. 

England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile, 
with bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more 
proud and firm in this youthful land, than where she 



Ex. 66.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 321 

treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches 
5 herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzer- 
land. Arbitrary principles, like those, against which 
we now contend, have cost one king of England his life, 
another his crown — and they may yet cost a third his 
most flourishing colonies. 

10 We are two millions — one fifth fighting men. We 
are bold and vigorous, — and we call no man master. 
To the nation, from whom we are proud to derive our 
origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield 
unforced assistance ; but it must not, and it never can 

15 be extorted. 

Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans 
too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper 1" No ! 
America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the 
right to take ten pounds implies the right to take a 

20 thousand ; and what must be the wealth, that avarice, 
aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True the gpeeSrs is 
now small ; but the shadow he casts before him, is huge 
enough to darken all this fair land. 

Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt 

25 of gratitude, which we owe to England. And what is 
the amount of this debt 1 Why, truly, it is the same 
that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought 
it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid 
the winds and storms of the desert. 

30 We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of 
freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were 
behind us. We have waked this new world from its 
savage lethargy : forests have been prostrated in our 
path ; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the 

35 flowers of the tropics, and the fires in our autumnal 
woods are scarcely more rapid, than the increase of our 
wealth and population. 

And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the 
mother country ? No ! we owe it to the tyranny, that 

40 drove us from her, — to the pelting storms, which invigo- 
rated our helpless infancy. 

But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from 
your gratitude, — we only demand that you should pay 



322 exercises. [Ex. 67. 

your own expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of 

45 their necessity ? Why, the King — (and with all due 
reverence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real 
wants of his distant subjects, as little as he does the lan- 
guage of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concerning 
the frequency of these demands? The ministry. Who 

50 is to judge whether the money is properly expended ? 
The cabinet behind the throne. 

In every instance, those who take, are to judge for 
those who pay ; if this system is suffered to go into ope- 
ration, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privi- 

55 lege, that rain and dew do not depend upon parliament ; 
otherwise they would soon be taxed and dried. 

But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon 
earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of 
liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the 

60 light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on 

th e- eheres ef America Actastcd ty its sacred influ- 
ence, we will resist unto death. But we will not coun- 
tenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs, that a des- 
perate community have heaped upon their enemies, 
65 shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be 
well for some proud men to remember, that a fire is 
lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king 
may kindle into such fury, that the blood of all England 
cannot extinguish it. 

67. Pitt's Reply to Walpole. 

Sir, 
The atrocious crime of being a young man, which 
the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and de- 
cency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palli- 
ate, nor deny, — but content myself with wishing that I 
5 may be one of those whose follies may cease with their 
youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite 
of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to any 
man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province 
of determining ; — but surely age may become justly con- 
10 temptible, if the opportunities which it brings have past 
away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail, 



kv 



J 



Ex. 67.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. . 323 

when the passions have subsided. The wretch who, 
after having seen the consequences of a thousand er- 
rors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has on- 

15 ly added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of 
either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that 
his grey hairs should secure him from insult. Much 
more, sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he advanced in 
age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more wicked 

20 with less temptation ; — who prostitutes himself for 
money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains 
of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth, sir, is 
not my only crime ; I have been accused of acting a 
theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply 

25 some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my 
real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and 
language of another man. 

In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling to be 
confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned to be de- 

30 spised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my 
own language ; and though, perhaps, I may have some 
ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay my- 
self under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his 
diction, or his mien, however matured by age, or mod- 

35 elled by experience. If any man shall, by charging me 
with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter any senti- 
ments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator 
and a villain ; — nor shall any protection shelter him from 
the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occa- 

40 sion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with 
which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, — nor 
shall any thing but age restrain my resentment ; — age, 
which always brings one privilege, that of being inso- 
lent and supercilious without punishment. But with 

45 regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of 
opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should 
have avoided their censure : the heat that offended 
them is the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the 
service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall 

50 influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned 
while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon 



^^^^^^^^^mmmma^^^ 



224: exercises. Ex. 68. 

public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever 
hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to jus- 
tice — whoever may protect them in their villany — and, 
55 whoever may partake of their plunder. 



68. Speech of Mr. Griffin against Cheetham. 

I am one of those who believe that the heart of the 
wilful and the deliberate libeller is blacker than that of 
the high-way robber, or of one who commits the crime of 
midnight arson. The man who plunders on the high- 
5 way, may have the semblance of an apology for what he 
does. An affectionate wife may demand subsistence ; 
a circle of helpless children raise to him the supplicat- 
ing hand for food. He may be driven to the desperate 
act by the high mandate of imperative necessity. The 

10 mild features of the husband and the father may inter- 
mingle with those of the robber and soften the rough- 
ness of the shade. But the robber of character plun- 
ders that which " not enricheth him," though it makes 
his neighbor ''poor indeed" — The man who at the 

15 midnight hour consumes his neighbor's dwelling, does 
jaim an injury which perhaps is not irreparable. Indus- 
try may rear another habitation. The storm may in- 
deed descend upon him until charity opens a neighbor- 
ing door : the rude winds of heaven may whistle around 

20 his uncovered family. But he looks forward to better 
days : he has yet a hook left to hang a hope on. No 
such consolation cheers the heart of him whose charac- 
ter has been torn from him. If innocent, he may look, 
like Anaxagoras, to the heavens ; but he must be con- 

25 strained to feel that this world is to him a wilderness. For 
whither shall he go ? Shall he dedicate himself to the 
service of his country 1 But will his country receive 
him ? Will she employ in her councils, or in her ar- 
mies, the man at whom the " slow unmoving finger of 

30 scorn" is pointed? Shall he betake himself to the 
fire-side? The story of his disgrace will enter his 
own doors before him. And can he bear, think 
you, can he bear the sympathizing agonies of a dis- 



Ex. 68.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 325 

tressed wife ? Can he endure the formidable presence 

35 of scrutinizing, sneering domestics ? Will his children 
receive instruction from the lips of a disgraced father ? 
Gentlemen, I am not ranging on fairy ground. I am 
telling the plain story of my client's wrongs. By the 
ruthless hand of malice his character has been wanton- 

40 ly massacred ; — and he now appears before a jury of his 
country for redress. Will you deny him this redress 1 
— Is character valuable ? On this point I will not in- 
sult you with argument. There are certain things, to 
argue which is treason against nature. The author of 

45 our being did not intend to leave this point afloat at the 
mercy of opinion, but with his own hand has he kindly 
planted in the soul of man an instinctive love of charac- 
ter. This high sentiment has no affinity to pride. It 
is the ennobling quality of the soul : and if we have 

50 hitherto been elevated above the ranks of surrounding 
creation, human nature owes its elevation to the love of 
character. It is the love of character for which the poet 
has sung, the philosopher toiled, the hero bled. It is 
the love of character which wrought miracles at ancient 

55 Greece ; the love of character is the eagle on which 
Rome rose to empire. And it is the love of character 
animating the bosom of her sons, on which America 
must depend in those approaching crises that may "try 
men's souls." Will a jury weaken this our nation's 

60 hope ? Will they by their verdict pronounce to the 
youth of our country, that character is scarce worth 
possessing ? 

We read of that philosophy which can smile over the 
destruction of property — of that religion which enables 

65 its possessor to extend the benign look of forgiveness 
and complacency to his murderers. But it is not in the 
soul of man to bear the laceration of slander. The phi- 
losophy which could bear it, we should despise. The 
religion which could bear it, we should not despise — ■ 

70 but we should be constrained to say, that its kingdom 
was not of this world. 

28 



! 



326 exercises. [Ex. 69. 

69. Thunder Storm. 

They came to the highlands. It was the latter part 
of a calm, sultry day, that they floated gently with the 
tide between these stern mountains. There was that 
perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor 
5 of summer heat ; the turning of a plank, or the acciden- 
tal falling of an oar on deck, was echoed from the moun- 
tain side, and reverberated along the shores ; and if by 
chance the captain gave a shout of command, there were 
airy tongues that mocked it from every cliff. 

10 I gazed about me in mute delight and wonder at these 
scenes of nature's magnificence. To the left the Dun- 
derberg reared its woody precipices, height over height, 
forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky. To 
the right strutted forth the bold promontory of Antony's 

15 Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it; while 
beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until they 
seemed to lock their arms together, and confine this 
mighty river in their embraces. There was a feeling 
of quiet luxury in gazing at the broad, green bosoms 

20 here and there scooped out among the precipices ; or 
at woodlands high in air, nodding over the edge of some 
beetling bluff, and their foliage all transparent in the 
yellow sunshine. 

In the midst of my admiration, I remarked a pile of 

25 bright, snowy clouds peering above the western heights. 
It was succeeded by another, and another, each seem- 
ingly pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering, 
with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep blue atmosphere : 
and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard 

30 rolling behind the mountains. The river, hitherto still 
and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now 
showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the breeze came 
creeping up it. The fish-hawks wheeled and screamed, 
and sought their nests on the high dry trees ; the crows 

35 flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks, and all 
nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder- 
gust. 

The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain 
tops ; their summits still bright and snowy, but the low- 



.cv 



Ex. 70.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 327 

40 er parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to pat- 
ter down in broad and scattered drops ; the wind fresh- 
ened, and curled up the waves ; at length it seemed as if 
the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain 
tops, and complete torrents of rain came rattling down. 

45 The lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and stream- 
ed quivering against the rocks, splitting and rending the 
stoutest forest trees. The thunder burst in tremendous 
explosions ; the peals were echoed from mountain to 
mountain ; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and rolled 

50 up the long defile of the highlands, each headland mak- 
ing a new echo, until old Bull hill seemed to bellow back 
the storm. 

For a time the scudding rack and mist, and the sheet- 
ed rain, almost hid the landscape from the sight. There 

55 was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the 
streams of lightning which glittered among the rain- 
drops. Never had I beheld such an absolute warring of 
the elements ; it seemed as if the storm was tearing and 
rending its way through this mountain defile, and had 

60 brought all the artillery of heaven into action. 

Irving. 

70. Slavery. 

My ear is pained, 

My soul is sick, with every day's report 

Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled. 

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart, 
5 It does not feel for man : the natural bond 

Of brotherhood is severed as the flax 

That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 

Not colored like his own ; and having power 
10 To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause, 

Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 

Lands intersected by a narrow frith 

Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 

Make enemies of nations, who had else, 
15 Like kindred drops, been mingled into one. 

Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 

And, worse than all, and most to be deplored, 



^^^^^^ 



328 exercises. [Ex. 71. 

As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 

20 With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, 
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not blush, 
And hang his head, to think himself a man? 

25 I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews, bought and sold, have ever earned. 
No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 

30 Just estimation prized above all price, 
I had much rather be myself the slave, 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
We have no slaves at home — then why abroad 1 
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave 

35 That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. 

Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs 
Receive our air, that moment they are free ; 
They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 

40 And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then, 
And let it circulate through every vein 
Of all your empire; that, where Britain's power 
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. Cowper. 

71. Irruption of Hyder Alt. 

When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do 
with men who either would sign no convention, or whom 
no treaty and no signature could bind, and who were 
the determined enemies of human intercourse itself, he 
5 decreed to make the country possessed by these incor- 
rigible and predestinated criminals a memorable exam- 
ple to mankind. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses 
of a mind capacious of such things, to leave the whole 
Carnatic an everlasting monument of vengeance ; and 
10 to put perpetual desolation as a barrier between him and 
those against whom the faith which holds the moral el- 



Ex. 71.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 329 



ements of the world together, was no protection. He 
became at length so confident of his force, so collected 
in his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of his 

15 dreadful resolution. Having terminated his disputes 
with every enemy, and every rival, who buried their 
mutual animosities in their common destination against 
the creditors of the nabob of Arcot, he drew from every 
quarter whatever a savage ferocity could add to his 

20 new rudiments in the arts of destruction ; and com- 
pounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and desola- 
tion, into one black cloud, he hung for. a while on the 
declivities of the mountains. While the authors of all 
these evils were idly and stupidly gazing on the men- 

25 acing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it sud- 
denly burst, and poured down the whole of its contents 
upon the plains of the Cainatic. Then ensued a scene 
of wo, the like of which no eye had seen, no heart con- 
ceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell All 

30 the horrors of war before known or heard of, were mer- 
cy to that new havoc. A storm of universal fire blasted 
every field, consumed every house, destroyed every 
temple. The miserable inhabitants, flying from their 
flaming villages, in part were slaughtered ; others, with- 

35 out regard to sex, to age, to the respect of rank, or sa- 
credness of function ; fathers torn from children, hus- 
bands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, 
and amidst the goading spears of drivers, and the tramp- 
ling of pursuing horses, were swept into captivity, in an 

40 unknown and hostile land. Those, who were able to 
evade this tempest, fled to the walled cities. But es- 
caping from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the 
jaws of famine. 

For eighteen months, without intermission, this de- 

45 struction raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of 
Tanjore; and so completely did these masters in their 
art, Hyder Ali and his more ferocious son, absolve 
themselves of their impious vow, that when the British 
armies traversed, as they did, the Carnatic for hundreds 

50 of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their 
march, they did not see one man, not one woman, not 
28* 



^ ^ ^^m—mmm 



330 exercises. [Ex. 72, 73. 

one child,. not one four-footed beast of any description 
whatever. One dead, uniform silence reigned over the 
whole region. Burke. 

72. Apostrophe to Sleep. 

Sleep, gentle sleep, 

Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 

And steep my senses in forgetfulness 1 
5 Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber : 

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 

Under the canopies of costly state, 
10 And lulPd with sounds of sweetest melody ? 

O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 

In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, 

A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell 1 

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
15 Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 

In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; 

And in the visitation of the winds, 

Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
20 With deaf'ning clamors in the slippery clouds, 

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? 

Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose 

To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude ; 

And, in the calmest and most stillest night, 
25 With all appliances, and means to boot, 

Deny it to a king ? Shakspeare, 

73. Vanity of Power and misery of Kings. 

No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs ; 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : 



Ex. 74.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 331 

And yet not so,— for what can we bequeath, 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
And nothing can we call our own, but death ; 

10 And that small model of the barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones\, 
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
And tell sad stories to the death of kings : — 
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war ; 

15 Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; 
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
All murder'd : — For within the hollow crown 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps death his court ; and there the antic sits, 

20 Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks j 
Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 
As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 

25 Were brass impregnable ; and humor'd thus, 
Comes at the last, and with a little pin 
Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king I 
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 

30 Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 
For you have but mistook me all this while : 
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
Need friends : — Subjected thus, 
How can you say to me — I am a king I 

Shalcspeare. 

74. Reproof of (he Irish Bishops. 

Here are the sovereign pontiff of the Catholic faith, 
and the Catholic king of Spain, distributing one third 
part of the revenues of their Church for the poor, and 
here are some of the enlightened doctors of our church 
5 depreciating such a principle, and guarding their riches 
against the encroaching of Christian charity ; I hope 
they will never again afford such an opportunity of com- 



332 exercises. [Ex. 74. 

paring them with the pope, or contrasting them with the 
apostles. I do not think their riches will be diminish- 

10 ed ; but if they were to be so — is not the question di- 
rectly put to them, which will they prefer 1 their flock 
or their riches ? for which did Christ die, or the apos- 
tles suffer martyrdom, or Paul preach, or Luther pro- 
test ? was it for the tithe of flax, or the tithe of barren 

15 land, or the tithe of potatoes, or the tithe-proctor, or the 
tithe-farmer, or the tithe-pig 1 Your riches are secure ; 
but if they are impaired by your acts of benevolence, 
does our religion depend on your riches 1 On such a 
principle your Savior should have accepted of the king- 

20 doms of the earth, and their glory, and have capitulated 
with the devil for the propagation of the faith. Never 
was a great principle rendered prevalent by power or 
riches ; — low and artificial means are resorted to for ful- 
filling the little views of men, their love of power, their 

25 avarice, or ambition ; but to apply to the great designs 
of God such wretched auxiliaries, is to forget his divini- 
ty and deny his omnipotence. What ! does the word 
come more powerfully from the dignitary in purple and 
fine linen than it came from the poor apostle with noth- 

30 ing but the spirit of the Lord on his lips, and the glory 
of God standing on his right hand 1 What, my lords, 
not cultivate barren land ; not encourage the manufac- 
tures of your country ; not relieve the poor of your flock, 
if the church is to be at any expense thereby ! — Where 

35 shall we find this principle 1 not in the Bible. I have 
adverted to the sacred writings without criticism, I al- 
low, but not without devotion — there is not in any part 
of them such a sentiment — not in the purity of Christ 
nor the poverty of the apostles, nor the prophecy of Isai- 

40 ah, nor the patience of Job, nor the harp of David, nor 
the wisdom of Solomon ! No, my lords, on this subject 
your Bible is against you — the precepts and practice of 
the primitive church are against you — the great words 
increase and multiply — the axiom of philosophy, that 

45 nature does nothing in vain — the productive principle 
that formed the system, and defends it against the am- 
bition and encroachments of its own elements — the re- 



\ 



Ex. 75.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 



333 



productive principle which continues the system, and 
which makes vegetation support life, and life adminis- 

50 ter back again to vegetation ; taking from the grave its 
sterile quality, and making death itself propagate to life 
and succession— the plenitude of things, and the majes- 
ty of nature, through all her organs, manifest against 
such a sentiment ; this blind fatality of error, which, 

55 under pretence of defending the wealth of the priest- 
hood, checks the growth of mankind, arrests his indus- 
try, and makes the sterility of the planet a part of its re- 
%ion. Grattan. 

75. Speech on the Greek Revolution. 

It may, in the next place, be asked, perhaps, suppos- 
ing all this to be true, what can we do ? Are we to go 
to war ? Are we to interfere in the Greek cause, or 
any other European cause 1 Are we to endanger our 
5 pacific relations 1 — No, certainly not. What, then, the 
question recurs, remains for us ? If we will not endan- 
ger our own peace, if we will neither furnish armies, 
nor navies, to the cause which we think the just one, 
what is there within our power ? 

10 Sir, this reasoning mistakes the age. The time has 
been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, 
were the principal reliances, even in the best cause. 
But, happily for mankind, there has come a great change 
in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, 

15 in proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced ; 
and the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly 
gaining an ascendancy over mere brutal force. It is 
already able to oppose the most formidable obstruction 
to the progress of injustice and oppression ; and, as it 

20 grows more intelligent and more intense, it will be more 
and more formidable. It may be silenced by military 
power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irre- 
pressible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary 
warfare. It is that impassible, unextinguishable enemy 

25 of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's 
angels, 



334 exercises. [Ex. 76. 

" Vital in every part, 

Cannot, but by annihilating, die." 

Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for 

30 power to talk either of triumphs or of repose. No mat- 
ter what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrender- 
ed, what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. 
In the history of the year that has passed by us, and in 
the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity 

35 of all triumphs, in a cause which violates the general 
sense of justice of the civilized word. It is nothing, 
that the troops of France have passed from the Pyre- 
nees to Cadiz ; it is nothing that an unhappy and pros- 
trate nation has fallen before them ; it is nothing that 

40 arrests, and confiscation, and execution, sweep away the 
little remnant of national resistance. There is an ene- 
my that still exists to check the glory of these triumphs. 
It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of his 
ovations ; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, 

45 though silent, is yet indignant ; it shows him that the 
sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre ; that it shall 
confer neither joy nor honor, but shall moulder to dry 
ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it 
pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice, it denoun- 

50 ces against him the indignation of an enlightened and 
civilized age ; it turns to bitterness the cup of his re- 
joicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs 
to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of 
mankind. Webster. 

76. Character of Hamilton. 

That writer would deserve the fame of a public bene- 
factor, who could exhibit the character of Hamilton, 
with the truth and force, that all who intimately knew 
him, conceived it : his example would then take the 
5 same ascendant, as his talents. The portrait alone, 
however exquisitely finished, could not inspire genius 
where it is not ; but if the world should again have pos- 
session of so rare a gift, it might awaken it when it 
sleeps, as by a spark from heaven's own altar ; for sure* 



\ 



J 



Ex. 76.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 335 

10 ly if there is any thing like divinity in man, it is his ad- 
miration of virtue. 

But who alive can exhibit this portrait? If our age, 
on that supposition, more fruitful than any other, had 
produced two Hamiltons, one of them might have de- 
15 picted the other. To delineate genius, one must feel 
its power : Hamilton, and he alone, with all its inspi- 
rations, could have transfused its whole fervid soul ink) 
the picture, and swelled its lineaments into life. The 
writer's mind, expanding with its own peculiar enthusi- 
20 asm, and glowing with kindred fires, would then have 
stretched to the dimensions of his subject. 

Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very dif- 
ficult for a man, who is greatly the superior of his as- 
sociates, to preserve their friendship without abatement ; 
25 yet, though he could not possibly conceal his superiori- 
ty, he was so little inclined to display it, he was so much 
at ease in his possession, that no jealousy or envy chill- 
ed his bosom, when his friends obtained praise. He 
was indeed so entirely the friend of his friends, so mag- 
80 nanimous, so superior, or, more properly, so insensible 
to all exclusive selfishness of spirit ; so frank, so ardent, 
- yet so little overbearing, so much trusted, admired, be- 
loved, almost adored, that his power over their affections 
was entire, and lasted through his life. We do not be- 
35 lieve, that he left any worthy man his foe, who had ev- 
er been his friend. 

Men of the most elevated minds, have not always the 
readiest discernment of character. Perhaps he was 
sometimes too sudden and too lavish in bestowing his 
40 confidence ; his manly spirit disdaining artifice, suspect- 
ed none. But while the power of his friends over him 
seemed to have no limits, and really had none, in res- 
pect to those things which were of a nature to be yield- 
ed, no man, not the Roman Cato himself, was more 
45 inflexible on every point that touched, or seemed to 
touch integrity and honor. With him, it was not 
enough to be unsuspected ; his bosom would have glow- 
ed like a furnace, at his own whispers of reproach. 
Mere purity would have seemed to him below praise ; 



\ 



X 



^" 



336 exercises. [Ex. 77. 

50 and such were his habits, and such his nature, that the 
pecuniary temptations which many others can only with 
great exertion and self-denial resist, had no attractions 
for him. He was very far from obstinate ; yet, as his 
friends assailed his opinions with less profound thought 

55 than he had devoted to them, they were seldom shaken 

by discussion. He defended them, however, with as 

much mildness as force, and evinced, that if he did not 

yield, it was not for want of gentleness or modesty. 

The tears that flow on this fond recital will never dry 

60 up. My heart, penetrated with the remembrance of 
the man, grows liquid as I write, and I could pour it 
out like water. I could weep too for my country, 
which, mournful as it is, does not know the half of its 
loss. It deeply laments, when it turns its eyes back, 

65 and sees what Hamilton was ; but my soul stiffens with 
despair, when I think what Hamilton would have been. 

Ames. 

77. State of the French Republic. 

With the jacobins of France, marriage is in effect an- 
nihilated ; children are encouraged to cut the throats 
of their parents ! mothers are taught that tenderness is 
no part of their character ; and to demonstrate their at- 
5 tachment to their party, that they ought to make no 
scruple to rake with their bloody hands in the bowels of 
those who come from their own. 

To all this let us join the practice of cannibalism, 
with which, in the proper terms, and with the greatest 
10 truth, their several factions accuse each other. By can- 
nibalism, I mean their devouring, as a nutriment of their 
ferocity, some part of the bodies of those they have mur- 
dered : their drinking the blood of their victims, and 
forcing the victims themselves to drink the blood of their 
15 kindred, slaughtered before their faces. By cannibal- 
ism, I mean also to signify all their nameless, unman- 
ly, and abominable insults on the bodies of those they 
slaughter. 

As to those whom they suffer to die a natural death, 



Ex. 77.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 337 

20 they do not permit them to enjoy the last consolations of 
mankind, or those rights of sepulture, which indicate 
hope, and which mere nature has taught to mankind in 
all countries to soothe the afflictions, and to cover the 
infirmity of mortal condition. They disgrace men in 

25 the entry into life : they vitiate and enslave them 
through the whole course of it ; and they deprive them 
of all comfort at the conclusion of their dishonored and 
depraved existence. Endeavoring to persuade the 
people that they are no better than beasts, the whole 

30 body of their institution tends to make them beasts of 
prey, furious and savage. For this purpose the active 
part of them is disciplined into a ferocity which has no 
parallel. To this ferocity there is joined not one of the 
rude, unfashioned virtues which accompany the vices, 

35 where the whole are left to grow up together in the 
rankness of uncultivated nature. But nothing is left to 
nature in their systems. 

The same discipline which hardens their hearts re- 
laxes their morals. Whilst courts of justice were thrust 

40 out by revolutionary tribunals, and silent churches were 
only the funeral monuments of departed religion, there 
were no fewer than nineteen or twenty theatres, great 
and small, most of them kept open at the public ex- 
pense, and all of them crowded every night. Among 

45 the gaunt, haggard forms of famine and nakedness, amidst 
the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries 
of despair; the song, the dance, the mimic scene, the 
buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay 
hour of festive peace. I have it from good authority, 

50 that under the scaffold of judicial murder, and the gap- 
ing planks that poured down blood on the spectators, 
the space was hired out for a shew of dancing dogs. I 
think, without concert, we have made the very same re- 
mark on reading some of their pieces, which being writ- 

55 ten for other purposes, let us into a view of their social 
life. It struck us that the habits of Paris had no resem- 
blance to the finished virtues, or to the polished vice, 
and elegant, though not blameless luxury, of the capital 
of a great empire. Their society was more like that of a 

29 



m 



338 



EXERCISES. [Ex. 78. 



60 den of outlaws upon a doubtful frontier ; of a lewd tav- 
ern for the revels and debauchees of banditti, assassins, 
bravos and smugglers mixed with bombastic players, 
the refuse and rejected offal of strolling theatres, puff- 
ing out ill-sorted verses about virtue, mixed with the 

65 licentious and blasphemous songs, proper to the brutal 
and hardened course of life belonging to that sort of 
wretches. This system of manners in itself is at war 
with all orderly and moral society, and is in its neigh- 
borhood unsafe. If great bodies of that kind were any 

70 where established in a bordering territory, we should 
have a right to demand of their governments the suppres- 
sion of such a nuisance. What are we to do if the gov- 
ernment and the whole community is of the same des- 
cription 1 Yet that government has thought proper to 

75 invite ours to lay by its unjust hatred, and to listen to 
the voice of humanity as taught by their example. 

Burke. 

78. Cicero for Cluentius. 

You, T. Attius, I know, had every where given it 
out, that I was to defend my client, not from facts, not 
upon the footing of innocence, but by taking advantage 
merely of the law in his behalf. Have I done so ? I 
5 appeal to yourself. Have I sought to cover him behind 
a legal defence only? On the contrary, have I not 
pleaded his cause as if he had been a senator, liable, by 
the Cornelian law, to be capitally convicted ; and shown, 
that neither proof nor probable presumption lies against 

10 his innocence 1 In doing so, I must acquaint you, that 
I have complied with the desire of Cluentius himself. 
For when he first consulted me in this cause, and when 
I informed him that it was clear no action could be 
brought against him from the Cornelian law, he instant- 

15 ly besought and obtested me, that I would not rest his 
defence upon that ground : saying, with tears in his 
eyes, that his reputation was as dear to him as his life ; 
and that what he sought, as an innocent man, was not 
only to be absolved from any penalty, but to be acquit- 

20 ted in the opinion of all his fellow-citizens. 



\ 



IL 



Ex. 78.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 339 

Hitherto, then, I have pleaded this cause upon his 
plan. But my client must forgive me, if now I shall 
plead it upon my own. For I should be wanting to 
myself, and to that regard which my character and sta- 

25 tion require me to bear to the laws of the state, if I 
should allow any person to be judged of by a law which 
does not bind him. You, Attius, indeed, have told us, 
that it was a scandal and reproach, that a Roman knight 
should be exempted from those penalties to which a 

30 senator, for corrupting judges, is liable. But I must 
tell you, that it would be a much greater reproach, in a 
state that is regulated by law, to depart from the law. 
What safety have any of us in our persons, what secu- 
rity for our rights, if the law shall be set aside ? By 

35 what title do you, Q. Naso, sit in that chair, and pre- 
side in this judgment ? By what right, T. Attius, do 
you accuse, or do I defend ? Whence all the solemni- 
ty and pomp of judges, and clerks, and officers, of which 
this house is full 1 Does not all proceed from the law, 

40 which regulates the whole departments of the state ; 
which, as a common bond, holds its members together ; 
and like the soul within the body, actuates and directs 
all the public functions ? On what ground, then, dare 
you speak lightly of the law, or move that, in a crim- 

45 inal trial, judges should advance one step beyond what 
it permits them to go 1 The wisdom of our ancestors has 
found, that as senators and magistrates enjoy higher 
dignities, and greater advantages than other members 
of the state, the law should also, with regard to them, 
be more strict, and the purity and uncorruptedness of 

50 their morals be guarded by more severe sanctions. But 
if it be your pleasure that this institution should be al- 
tered, if you wish to have the Cornelian law concern- 
ing bribery extended to all ranks, then let us join, not 
in violating the law, but in proposing to have this alter- 

55 ation made by a new law. My client, Cluentius, will 
be the foremost in this measure, who now, while the 
old law subsists, rejected its defence, and required his 
cause to be pleaded, as if he had been bound by it. 
But, though he would not avail himself of the law, you 



■p 



340 exercises. Ex. 79. 

60 are bound in justice not to stretch it beyond its proper 
limits. 

79. Extract from Demosthenes. 

Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the 
contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man who 
has confidence enough to deny it? Let him arise, and 
assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and 
5 prosperity of Philip — "But," you reply, "what Athens 
may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in 
splendor at home. Was there ever a greater appear- 
ance of prosperity ; a greater face of plenty ? Is not 
the city enlarged ? Are not the streets better paved, 

10 houses repaired and beautified?" — Away with such tri- 
fles ! Shall I be paid with counters ? An old square 
new vamped up ! a fountain ! an aqueduct ! are these 
acquisitions to brag of ? Cast your eye upon the magis- 
trate under whose ministry you boast these precious 

15 improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, 
all at once, from dirt to opulence ; from the lowest ob- 
scurity to the highest honors. Have not some of these 
upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the 
most sumptuous of our public palaces? And how have 

20 their fortunes and their power increased, but as the com- 
monwealth has been ruined and impoverished ? 

To what are we to impute these disorders, and to 
what cause assign the decay of a state so powerful and 
flourishing in past times ? The reason is plain. The 

25 servant is now become the master. The magistrate was 
then subservient to the people ; all honors, dignities, 
and preferments, were disposed by the voice and fa- 
vor of the people ; but the magistrate, now, has usurp- 
ed the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary 

30 authority over his ancient and natural lord. You, mis- 
erable people ! — the meanwhile, without money, without 
friends, — from being the ruler, are become the servant ; 
from being the master, the dependent : happy that these 
governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your 

35 own power, are so good and so gracious as to continue 
your poor allowance to see plays. 



\ 



M 



Ex. 79.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. ' 341 

Believe me, Athenians, if recovering from this leth- 
ar gy> you would assume the ancient freedom and spirit 
of your fathers — if you would be your own soldiers and 

40 your own commanders, confiding no longer your affairs 
in foreign or mercenary hands — if you would charge 
yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for 
the public, what you waste in unprofitable pleasures at 
home — the world might once more behold you making 

45 a figure worthy of Athenians. — " You would have us, 
then, (you say,) do service in our armies in our own per- 
sons ; and, for so doing, you would have the pensions we 
receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. 
Is it thus we are to understand you ?"-— Yes, Athenians, 

50 'tis my plain meaning. — I would make it a standing rule, 
that no person, great or little, should be the better for 
the public money, who should grudge to employ it for 
the public service. Are we in peace 1 the public is 
charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or un- 

55 der a necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war 1 
let your gratitude oblige you to accept, as pay in defence 
of your benefactors, what you receive, in peace, as mere 
bounty. — Thus, without any innovation — without alter- 
ing or abolishing any thing but pernicious novelties, 

60 introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness 
— by converting only for the future, the same funds, 
for the use of the serviceable, which are spent, at pres- 
ent, upon the unprofitable, you may be well served in 
your armies — your troops regularly paid — justice duly 

65 administered — the public revenues reformed and in- 
creased — and every member of this commonwealth ren- 
dered useful to his country, according to his age and 
ability, without any further burden to the state. 



29^ 



^™™ 



342 exercises. [Ex. 80. 

80. Brougham's Speech, on the speech made by the Duke of 
York in the house of Lords on the Catholic question, 
which his Lordship concluded by saying "lam deter- 
mined, to whatever censure or obloquy I may be exposed 
by making this declaration, to persevere in my opposition 
to these claims, so help me god." 

Will any man tell me that he has now confident hopes 
of the Catholic question ? We are told that we are not 
to try the question of the 40s. freeholders on its own 
merits, but that the measure is expedient, because it will 
5 ensure the passing of the Catholic Bill. This argument 
might have been used twenty-four hours ago, but does 
any man believe, after what has passed, that the enact- 
ment of this measure will be sure to carry the Catholic 
Bill ? What earthly security have I, that if I abandon 

10 my privileges and my duty as a legislator, by voting for 
this measure in the dark, I shall even have the suppos- 
ed compensation, for this abandonment and betrayal of 
my duty, the passing of the Catholic Bill? I repeat, 
that this might have been urged as an argument two or 

15 three days ago ; but does any man really believe now 
that the Catholic Bill will pass ? Does any man believe 
that the ominous news of this day, which has gone forth 
to England and Ireland, will not ring the knell of de- 
spair in the ears of the Catholics? I am not an enemy 

20 to consistency of action ; I do not condemn the candid 
expression of sincere conviction ; I do not even com- 
plain of the violence of zeal, or censure the promulga- 
tion of honest obstinacy, however erroneous ; but when 
I behold those manly feelings darkened by ignorance 

25 and inflamed by prejudice, and blinded by bigotry, I 
will not hesitate to assert, that no monarch ever came 
to the throne of these realms in such a spirit of direct 
and predetermined, and predeclared, hostility to the opin- 
ions and wishes of the people. I repeat, then, that when 

30 that event* shall have taken place, it will be impossible 
to carry the question of emancipation ; nay, that its suc- 

* The accession of the Duke of York, who was heir apparent 
to the throne. 



& 



[Ex. 80. SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 343 

cess is even at present surrounded by doubt and danger, 
while such opposition is brewing against it in such a 
quarter. Instead of a majority of twenty-seven mera- 

35 bers of this house, to save the empire from convulsion, 
which, within the last twenty-four hours, has become 
ten thousand times more petrifying to the imagination ; 
I believe nothing can save Ireland — nothing can pre- 
serve the tranquillity of Ireland and save England from 

40 new troubles, but a large increase of the majority on the 
question. Now, then, is the time to carry it or not for 
years — and even now you can carry it only by an over- 
whelming majority of this House. This is the hour of its 
good fortune. This reign — the present reign, is the crit- 

45 ical moment of its probable success. The time may pass 
quickly by you — the glorious opportunity may soon be 
lost. After a little sleeping, and a little debating, and a 
little sitting upon these benches, and a little folding of 
your arms, and a short, passing space of languid procras- 

50 tination, the present auspicious occasion will have dis- 
appeared, and the dominion of bigotry and. despotism 
will come in all its might upon our slumberings, like an 
armed man in the night, and destroy the peace of Ire- 
land, and endanger the safety of England, and threaten 

55 the liberties of the general empire. — But God forbid 
that such a time may ever arrive ! Yet, if it is destined 
to come upon us, late and far, far distant from us be the 
ill-omened crisis. If I were a lover of discord — Sir, I 
am not a lover of discord — and those perhaps who con- 

60 sider me so, are only not lovers of discord, because they 
prefer to what they call discord and commotion, the 
solitude, which absolute, unthinking obedience pays to 
unmitigated despotism. I respect all men's consciences. 
God forbid that I should not give to their honest differ- 

65 ences of opinion that toleration which I challenge for 
myself. I have said that a want of conscientious hon- 
esty and frankness is the last charge which I would 
bring against any man, either within these walls or out 
of doors; but I have lived long enough to know that 

70 most antagonists, provided they be not honest, enlight- 
ened men, are very often the most perverse and perti- 
nacious antagonists, and that all hopes of reclaiming them 



A 



344 exercises. [Ex. 81. 

from their errors, " so help them God," is impossible. 
It becomes us then, to set our House in order by times, 

75 and to recollect, that if we carried up the Bill, on a for- 
mer occasion, with a majority of nineteen, and it failed 
in the House of Peers, there is ten thousand fold the ne- 
cessity of taking this last opportunity of bringing the 
question to a conclusion because an event may happen 

80 — God knows how soon or how late, but God forbid that 
it should be soon, when you will no longer have the op- 
tion ; when even if the Bill should be carried — not by a 
majority of nineteen or twenty-seven — but by a unani- 
mous vote of both Houses of Parliament, and the voice 

85 of the whole country — even if the country streamed with 
blood, the measure could not be effected except by an 
inseparable breach of the Crown. 

81. Dangers which beset the Literature of the age. 

There are dangers of another sort, which beset the 
literature of the age. The constant demand for new 
works and the impatience for fame, not only stimulate 
authors to an undue eagerness for strange incidents, 
5 singular opinions, and vain sentimentalities, but their 
style and diction are infected with the faults of extrava- 
gance and affectation. The old models of fine writing 
and good taste are departed from, not because they can 
be excelled, but because they are known, and want 

10 freshness; because, if they have a finished coloring, 
they have no strong contrasts to produce effect. The 
consequence is, that opposite extremes in the manner 
of composition prevail at the same moment, or succeed 
each other with a fearful rapidity. On one side are to 

15 be found authors, who profess to admire the easy flow 
and simplicity of the old style, the naturalness of famil- 
iar prose, and the tranquil dignity of higher composi- 
tions. But in their desire to be simple, they become 
extravagantly loose and inartificial ; in their familiar- 

20 ity, feeble and drivelling ; and in their more aspiring ef- 
forts, cold, abstract, and harsh. On the other side, 
there are those who have no love for polished perfection 
of style, for sustained and unimpassioned accuracy, for 



Ex.81.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 345 

persuasive, but equable diction. They require more 

25 hurried tones, more stirring spirit, more glowing and ir- 
regular sentences. There must be intensity of thought 
and intensity of phrase at every turn. there must be 
bold and abrupt transitions, strong relief, vivid coloring, 
forcible expression. If these are present, all other 

30 faults are forgiven, or forgotten. Excitement is pro- 
duced, and taste may slumber. 

Examples of each sort may be easily found in our 
miscellaneous literature, among minds of no ordinary 
cast. Our poetry deals less than formerly with the sen- 

35 timents and feelings belonging to ordinary life. It has 
almost ceased to be didactic, and in its scenery, and de- 
scriptions reflect too much the peculiarities and mor- 
bid visions of eccentric minds. How little do we see 
of the simple beauty, the chaste painting, the uncon- 

40 scious moral grandeur of Crabbe and Cowper i We 
have, indeed, successfully dethroned the heathen dei- 
ties. The Muses are no longer invoked by every un- 
happy inditer of verse. The Naiads no longer inhabit 
our fountains, nor the Dryads our woods. The River 

45 Gods no longer rise, like old father Thames, 

" And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore." 

In these respects our poetry is more true to nature, 
and more conformable to just taste. But it still insists 
too much on extravagant events, characters, and pas- 
sions far removed from common life, and farther remov- 

50 ed from general sympathy. It seeks to be wild, and 
fiery, and startling ; and sometimes, in its caprices, low 
and childish. It portrays natural scenery, as if it were 
always in violent commotion. It describes human emo- 
tions, as if man were always in ecstacies or horrors. 

55 Whoever writes for future ages must found himself upon 
feelings and sentiments belonging to the mass of man- 
kind. Whoever paints from nature will rarely depart 
from the general character of repose impressed upon her 
scenery, and will perfer truth to the ideal sketches of 

60 the imagination. Story, 



S46 exercises. [Ex. 82. 






82. Tribute to Henry Kirk White. 

Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring, 
And thy young Muse just wav'd her joyous wing, 
The spoiler came ; all, all thy promise fair 
Has sought the grave, to sleep forever there. 
5 Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, 
When Science' self destroy'd her favorite son ! 
Yes, she too much indulg'd thy fond pursuit, 
She sow'd the seeds, but Death has reap'd the fruit. 
'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, 

10 And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low : 
So the struck eagle stretch'd upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
Vievv'd his own feather on the fatal dart, 
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart ; 

15 Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, 
He nurs'd the pinion which impell'd the steel. 
While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest, 
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast. 

Byron. 






SACRED ELOQUENCE. 



83. Defence of Pulpit Eloquence. 

It is sufficiently evident that eloquence has a strong 
influence over the minds and passions of men. 

I do not call the attention of the reader to those com- 
positions which filled Athens with valor, which agitat- 
5 ed or calmed, at the will of the orator, the bosoms of a 
thousand warriors, and which all nations have consent- 
ed to immortalize. The thunder which Demosthenes 
hurled at the head of Philip, continues to roll to the 
present hour ; and his eloquence, stripped as it is of ac- 

10 tion and utterance, mutilated by time, and enfeebled by 
translation, is yet powerful enough to kindle in our bo- 
soms, at this remote age, a fire, which the hand of death 
has extinguished in the hearts of those who were origi- 
nally addressed! We pass over, also, the eloquence 

15 which Cicero poured out, in a torrent so resistless, that 
the awful senate of Rome could not withstand its force ; 
an eloquence that could break confederacies, disarm 
forces, control anarchy ! — an eloquence that years 
cannot impair, age cannot weaken, time cannot de- 

20 stroy ! But we appeal to its influence, in an age not 
very remote, nor very unlike the present, in a neigh- 
boring country, in the ministerial profession. The 
name of Massillon was more attractive than all the 
perfumes that Arabia could furnish ; and this was the 

25 incense that filled the churches of spiritual Babylon. 
The theatre was forsaken, while the church was crowd- 
ed ; the court forgot their amusements, to attend the 
preacher ; and his spirit-controlling accents drew the 
monarch from his throne to his feet, stopped the irnpet- 



348 exercises. [Ex. 83. 

30 uous stream of dissipation, and compelled the mocking 
world to listen ! This is not a picture delineated by fan- 
cy, but a representation of facts ; and it is well known, 
that no fashionable amusements had attractions when 
the French Bishop was to ascend the pulpit. While he 

35 spoke, the king trembled ; while he denounced the in- 
dignation of God against a corrupted court, nobility 
shrunk into nothingness ; while he described the hor- 
rors of a judgment to come, infidelity turned pale, and 
the congregation, unable to support the thunder of his 

40 language, rose from their seats in agony ! Let these 
instances suffice to show the power of eloquence, the 
influence which language well chosen has upon the mind 
of man, who alone, of all the creatures of God, is able 
to transmit his thoughts through the medium of speech, 

45 to know, to relish, and to use the charms of language. 
I am well aware that an argument is deduced from 
the power of eloquence against the use of it in the pul- 
pit. ' It is liable to abuse ;' say they, ' it tends to im- 
pose upon the understanding, by fascinating the imagi- 

50 nation.' Most true ! it is liable to abuse ; and what is 
there so excellent in its nature that is not 1 The doc- 
trines of grace have been abused to licentiousness ; and 
the liberty of Christianity ' used as a cloak of malicious- 
ness.' This, however, is no refutation of those doc- 

55 trines, no argument against that liberty. Because elo- 
quence has been abused, because it has served Anti- 
christ, or rendered sin specious, is it, therefore, less 
excellent in itself 1 or is it, for that reason, to be re- 
jected from the service of holiness 1 No ; let it be era- 

60 ployed in the service of God, and it is directed to its 
noblest ends ; it answers the best of purposes ! 

' But the most eloquent are not always the most use- 
ful ; and God hath chosen the ignorant, in various in- 
stances, to confound the wise.' It is granted. But 

65 does God uniformly work one way ? When he sends, 
it is by whom he will send ; and he can qualify, and 
does qualify those whom he raises up for himself. He 
can give powers as a substitute for literature, and 
by his own energy effect that which eloquence alone 



/ 



Ex. 83.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 349 

70 cannot. But we set not up this attainment against his 
energy, we know that it is useful only in dependence 
upon it. We know, too, why the ignorant are frequent- 
ly exalted in the scale of usefulness, to show that ' the 
power is not of man, but of God ;' and ' that no flesh 
75 should glory in his presence.' But has he not blessed 
talents also, for the same important purpose 1 Has he 
never employed eloquence usefully ? Has his favor 
been uniformly limited, or ever limited to the illiterate 1 
Because he sometimes works without the means, and 
80 apparently in defiance of the means, are we therefore 
to lay them aside ? Who possessed more advantages, or 
more eloquence than the apostle, whose words are al- 
luded to in this objection ? Did Paul make a worse 
preacher for being brought up at the feet of Gamaliel 1 
85 But the gospel of Jesus disdains such assistance : 
for the apostle says to the Corinthians, ' I came not to 
you with excellency of speech :' — ' and my speech, and 
my preaching, was not with enticing words of men's 
wisdom.' That the gospel of Jesus disdains the assist- 
90 ance of eloquence, in a certain sense, I admit. It will 
not accept of any thing as its support. It stands upon 
its own inherent excellence, and spurns all extraneous 
aid. It is a sun absorbing every surrounding luminary. 
Its beauty eclipses every charm brought in comparison 
95 with it. Yet, is this a reason why, in enforcing its 
glorious truths upon our fellow-men, we should disdain 
assistance which, although it aids not the gospel, is 
useful to them 1 Follow the opposite principle, and 
lay aside preaching. The gospel approves itself to the 
100 conscience ; every attempt to illustrate and enforce it 
is useless, when applied to the truth itself, for it cannot 
be rendered more excellent than it is : yet it may be 
rendered more perspicuous to our fellow-men, it needs 
enforcing as it regards them ; and preaching has been 
105 instituted by God himself for that express purpose. So 
eloquence cannot render assistance to the gospel itself; 
but may be useful to those who attend it. True elo- 
quence has for its object, not merely to please, but to 
render luminous the subject discussed, and to reach the 
110 hearts of those concerned. 
30 



350 exercises. [Ex. 64. 

We live in a day when it becomes us to be equal ev- 
ery way to our adversaries. This we never can be, if 
we cherish a contempt for liberal science. Infidelity 
lifts her standard, and advances, with daring front, to 

115 ' defy the armies of the living God.' Distinguished 
talents rally around her ensign. The charms of elo- 
quence, the force of reason, the majesty of literature, 
the light of science, are all enlisted under her banner; 
are all opposed to ' the truth as it is in Jesus.' Let us, 

120 in reliance upon divine aid, meet them upon equal 
terms, contend with them on their own ground, turn 
against them their own weapons ! Let us meet them in 
the plain, or upon the mountain ; let us ascend to their 
elevation, or stoop to their level ! Let us oppose sci- 

125 ence to science, eloquence to eloquence, light to light, 
energy to energy ! Let us prove that we are their equals 
in intellect, their colleagues in literature : but that, in 
addition to this, ■ One is our master, even Christ, — 
that we have ' a more sure word of prophecy,' — and 

130 that our light, borrowed from the fountain of illumina- 
tion, will shine with undiminished lustre, when their 
lamp, fed only by perishable, precarious supplies, shall 
be for ever extinguished ! 

84. The Blind Preacher. 

One Sunday, as I travelled through the county of 
Orange, my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied 
near a ruinous, old, wooden house, in the forest, not far 
from the road-side. Having frequently seen such ob- 
5 jects before, in travelling through these states, I had no 
difficulty in understanding that this was a place of reli- 
gious worship. Devotion alone should have stopped 
me, to join in the duties of the congregation ; but I 
must confess, that curiosity to hear the preacher of such 
10 a wilderness, was not the least of my motives. 

On entering the house, I was struck with his preter- 
natural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old 
man — his head, which was covered with a white linen 
cap ; his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaken 



i 



Ex. 84.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 351 

15 under the influence of a palsy, and a few moments as- 
certained to me that he was perfectly blind. The first 
emotions which touched my breast, were those of min- 
gled pity and veneration. But ah ! How soon were all 
my feelings changed ! It was a day of the administra- 

20 tion of the sacrament, and his subject, of course, was 
the passion of our Savior. I had heard the subject 
handled a thousand times ; I had thought it exhausted 
long ago. Little did I suppose, that in the wild woods 
of America, I was to meet with a man whose eloquence 

25 would give to this topic, a new and more sublime pathos 
than I had ever before witnessed. 

As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the 
mystic symbol, there was a peculiar, a more than hu- 
man solemnity in his air and manner, which made my 

30 blood run cold, and my whole frame to shiver. He 
then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Savior — 
his trial before Pilate — his ascent up Calvary — his cru- 
cifixion — and his death. I knew the whole history ; 
but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so 

35 selected, so arranged, so colored ! It was all new ; 
and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in my 
life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice 
trembled on every syllable ; and every heart in the as- 
sembly trembled in unison. 

40 His peculiar phrases, had that force of description, 
that the original scene appeared to be, at that moment, 
acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the 
Jews — the staring, frightful distortions of malice and 
rage. We saw the buffet — my soul kindled with a 

45 flame of indignation, and my hands were involuntarily 
and convulsively clenched. But when he came to 
touch the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Sa- 
vior — when he drew, to the life, his blessed eyes stream- 
ing in tears to heaven — his voice breathing to God, a 

50 soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, " Fa- 
ther, forgive them, for they know not what they do,"- — 
the voice of the preacher, which had all along faulted 
ed, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance being 
entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he rais- 

55 ed his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud 



352 exercises. [Ex. 85. 

and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect was incon- 
ceivable. The whole house resounded with the min- 
gled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the Congregation. 
It was sometime before the tumult had subsided, so 

60 far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by 
the usual, but fallacious standard of my, own weakness, 
I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the 
preacher. For I could not conceive, how he would be 
able to let his audience down from the height to which 

65 he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity 
and dignity of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by 
the abruptness of the fall. But the descent was as 
beautiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid 
and enthusiastic. 

70 The first sentence with which he broke the awful 
silence, was a quotation from Rousseau : " Socrates 
died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God ! !" 
Never before did I completely understand what Demos- 
thenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. 

Wirt. 

85. Joel 2:1— 11. 

Joel ii. — 1 Blow ye the trumpet in Zion, and sound 
an alarm in my holy mountain : let all the inhabitants of 
the land tremble : for the day of the Lord cometh, for it is 
nigh at hand ; 2 A day of darkness and of gloominess, a 
day of clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning spread 
upon the mountains : a great people and a strong ; there 
hath not been ever the like, neither shall be any more 
after it, even to the years of many generations. 3 A fire 
devoureth before them ; and behind them a flame burn- 
etii : the land is as the garden of Eden before them, 
and behind them a desolate wilderness ; yea, and noth- 
ing shall escape them. 4 The appearance of them is as 
the appearance of horses ; and as horsemen so shall they 
run. 5 Like the noise of chariots on the tops of moun- 
tains shall they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire 
that devoureth the stubble, as a strong people set in bat- 
tle-array. 6 Before their face the people shall be much 
pained ; all faces shall gather blackness. 7 They shall run 



i 



Ex. 86.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 353 

like mighty men ; they shall climb the wall like men of 
war ; and they shall march every one on his ways, and they 
shall not break their ranks : 8 Neither shall one thrust 
another ; they shall walk every one in his path : and when 
they fall upon the sword, they shall not be wounded. 
9 They shall run to and fro in the city ; they shall run 
upon the wall, they shall climb up upon the houses: they 
shall enter in at the windows like a thief. 10 The earth 
shall quake before them ; the heavens shall tremble : the 
sun and the moon shall be dark, and the stars shall with- 
draw their shining : 11 And the Lord shall utter his voice 
before his army : for his camp is very great : for he is strong 
that executeth his word : for the day of the Lord is great 
and very terrible ; and who can abide it 1 

86. 2 Samuel 1 : 17—27. 

2 Samuel i. — 17 And David lamented with this lamen- 
tation over Saul, and over Jonathan his son : 18 (Also he 
bade them teach the children of Judah the use of the bow : 
behold, it is written in the book of Jasher.) 19 The beau- 
ty of Israel is slain upon thy high places : how are the 
mighty fallen ! 20 Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in 
the streets of Askelon : lest the daughters of the Philistines 
rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. 
21 Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither 
let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there 
the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of 
Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. 22 From 
the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow 
of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul return- 
ed not empty. 23 Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleas- 
ant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided : 
they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. 
24 Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed 
you in scarlet, with other delights ; who put on ornaments 
of gold upon your apparel. 25 How are the mighty fallen 
in the midst of the battle ! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in 
thy high places. 26 I am distressed for thee, my brother 
Jonathan : very pleasant hast thou been unto me : thy love 
30* 



354 exercises. [Ex. 87. 

to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 27 How 
are the mighty fallen and the weapons of war perished ! 

87. Revelation. 

All truth is from the sempiternal source 

Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, 

Drew from the stream below. More favor'd, we 

Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain-head. 
5 To them it flow'd much mingled and defil'd 

With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams 

Illusive of philosphy, so call'd, 

But falsely. Sages after sages strove 

In vain to filter off a crystal draught 
10 Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd 

The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred 

Intoxication and delirium wild. 

In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth 

And spring-time of the world ; ask'd, Whence is man ? 
15 Why form'd at all 1 and wherefore as he is ? 

Where must he find his Maker 1 with what rites 

Adore him ? Will he hear, accept, and bless ? 

Or does he sit regardless of his works 1 

Has man within him an immortal seed 1 
20 Or does the tomb take all 1 If he survive 

His ashes, where 1 and in what weal or wo ? 

Knots worthy of solution, which alone 

A deity could solve. Their answers, vague 

And all at random, fabulous and dark, 
25 Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life, 

Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak 

To bind the roving appetite, and lead 

Blind nature to a God not yet reveal'd. 

'Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts, 
30 Explains all mysteries except her own, 

And so illuminates the path of life, 

That fools discover it, and stray no more. 

Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir, 

My man of morals, nurtur'd in the shades 
35 Of Academus — is this false or true 1 



~\ 



\ 



Ex. 88.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 355 

Is Christ the able teacher, or the schools 1 

If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn 

To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short 

Of man's occasions, when in him reside 
40 Grace, knowledge, comfort — an unfathom'd store 1 

How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, 

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully preach'd 1 

Men that, if now alive, would sit content 

And humble learners of a Savior's worth, 
45 Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth, 

Their thirst of knowledge, and their candor too ! 

Cowper, 

88. Daniel 9: 3—19. 

Dan. ix. — 3 And I set my face unto the Lord God, to 
seek by prayer and supplications, with fastings, and sack- 
cloth, and ashes j 4 And I prayed unto the Lord my God, 
and made my confession, and said, O Lord, the great and 
dreadful God, keeping the covenant and mercy to them that 
love him, and to them that keep his commandments ; 5 
We have sinned, and have committed iniquity, and have 
done wickedly, and have rebelled, even by departing from 
thy precepts and from thy judgments : 6 Neither have we 
hearkened unto thy servants the prophets, which spake in 
thy name to our kings, our princes, and our fathers, and 
to all the people of the land. 7 O Lord, righteousness be- 
longeth unto thee, but unto us confusion of faces, as at 
this day : to the men of Judah, and to the inhabitants of 
Jerusalem, and unto all Israel, that are near, and that 
are afar bff, through all the countries whither thou hast 
driven them, because of their trespass that they have 
trespassed against thee. 8 O Lord, to us belongeth con- 
fusion of face, to our kings, to our princes, and to our 
fathers, because we have sinned against thee. 9 To the 
Lord our God belong mercies and forgiveness, though we 
have rebelled against him ; 10 Neither have we obeyed 
the voice of the Lord our God, to walk in his laws, which 
he set before us by his servants the prophets. 11 Yea, all 
Israel have transgressed thy law, even by departing, that 
they might not obey thy voice ; therefore the curse is pour- 



356 exercises. [Ex. 80. 

ed upon us, and the oath that is written in the law of Moses 
the servant of God, because we have sinned against him. 
12 And he hath confirmed his words, which he spake against 
us, and against our judges that judged us, by bringing upon 
us a great evil : for under the whole heaven hath not been 
done as hath been done upon Jerusalem. 13 As it is written 
in the law of Moses, all this evil is come upon us : yet made 
we not our prayer before the Lord our God, that we might 
turn from our iniquities, and understand thy truth. 14 There- 
fore hath the Lord watched upon the evil, and brought it 
upon us : for the Lord our God is righteous in all his works 
which he doeth : for we obeyed not his voice. 15 And now, 
O Lord our God, thou hast brought thy people forth out of 
the land of Egypt with a mighty hand, and hast gotten thee 
renown, as at this day ; we have sinned, we have done wick- 
edly. 

16 O Lord, according to all thy righteousness, I beseech 
thee, let thine anger and thy fury be turned away from thy 
city Jerusalem, thy holy mountain : because for our sins 
and for the iniquities of our fathers, Jerusalem and thy peo- 
ple are become a reproach to all that are about us. 17 Now 
therefore, O our God, hear the prayer of thy servant, and 
his supplications, and cause thy face to shine upon thy sanc- 
tuary that is desolate, for the Lord's sake. 18 O my God, 
incline thine ear, and hear ; open thine eyes and behold 
our desolations, and the city which is called by thy name : 
for we do not present our supplications before thee for our 
righteousness, but for thy great mercies. 19 O Lord, hear ; 
O Lord, forgive ; O Lord, hearken and do ; defer not, for 
thine own sake, O my God : for thy city and thy people are 
called by thy name. 

89. Success of the Gospel. 

The assumption that our cause is declining is utterly 
gratuitous. We think it not difficult to prove that the 
distinctive principles we so much venerate, never sway- 
ed so powerful an influence over the destinies of the 
5 human race, as at this very moment. Point us to those 
nations of the earth to whom moral and intellectual cul- 
tivation, inexhaustible resources, progress in arts and 



Ex. 89.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 357 

sagacity in council, have assigned the highest rank in 
political importance, and you point us to nations, whose 

10 religious opinions are most closely allied to those we 
cherish. Besides, when was there a period, since the 
days of the Apostles, in which so many converts have 
been made to these principles as have been made, both 
from christian and pagan nations, within the last five 

15 and twenty years. Never did the people of the saints 
of the Most High look so much like going forth in seri- 
ous earnest, to take possession of the kingdom and do- 
minion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the 
whole heaven as at this very day. 

20 But suppose the cause did seem declining, we should 
see no reason to relax our exertions, for Jesus Christ 
has said, preach the gospel to every creature, and ap- 
pearances, whether prosperous or adverse, alter not the 
obligation to obey a positive command of Almighty God. 

25 Again, suppose all that is affirmed were true. If it 
must be, let it be. Let the dark cloud of infidelity over- 
spread Europe, cross the ocean, and cover our beloved 
land — let nation after nation swerve from the faith — let 
iniquity abound, and the love of many wax cold, even 

30 until there is on the face of this earth, but one pure 
church of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ — all we 
ask is, that we may be members of that one church. 
God grant that we may throw ourselves into this Ther- 
mopylae of the moral universe. 

35 But even then, we should have no fear that the church 
of God would be exterminated. We would call to re- 
membrance the years of the right hand of the Most 
High. We would recollect there was once a time, 
when the whole church of Christ, not only could be, 

40 but actually was gathered with one accord in one place. 
It was then that that place was shaken, as with a rush- 
ing mighty wind, and they were all filled with the Holy 
Ghost. That same day, three thousand were added 
to the Lord. Soon, we hear, they have filled Jerusalem 

45 with their doctrine. — The church has commenced her 
march — Samaria has with one accord believed the gos- 
pel — Antioch has become obedient to the faith — the 
name of Christ has been proclaimed thoughout Asia 



358 : exercises. [Ex. 90. 

Minor — the temples of the gods, as though smitten by 

50 an invisible hand, are deserted — the citizens of Ephesus 

cry out in despair, Great is Diana of the Ephesians — 

licentious Corinth is purified by the preaching of Christ 

crucified. Persecution puts forth her arm to arrest the 

spreading superstition, but the progress of the faith can- 

*>5 not be stayed. The church of God advances unhurt 

amidst rocks and dungeons, persecutions and death — 

she has entered Italy, and appears before the walls of 

the Eternal City — idolatry falls prostrate at her approach 

— her ensign floats in triumph over the capitol — she has 

60 placed upon her brow the diadem of the Caesars. 

Wayland. 

90. The events of Providence 'promotive of the end 
of Missions. 

Little did Julius Csesar imagine, when the white cliffs 
of Britain, glittering in the sun, excited his ambition and 
drew him across the Channel, for what purpose he dis- 
embarked his legions on our coast; but we know that it 
5 was to open a door through which the Gospel might en- 
ter our beloved country. Little did the spirit of com- 
mercial enterprise imagine, when urged only by its 
thirst for gold, it fixed its establishments at the mouth 
of the Hoogley or on the banks of the Ganges, that it 

10 was sent thither as the forerunner of Christian Mission- 
aries. Little does the genius of war imagine, when im- 
pelling its mad votaries to new contests, that Christiani- 
ty is following at a distance, in the rear of victorious 
armies, to plant her stations on the fields of their en- 

15 campment, to bear away the best of the spoils, and as- 
sume the dominion which other potentates have lost. 
Little did Columbus imagine, when with a heart big 
with mighty projects, he walked in silence on the shores 
of Andalusia, and watched the star of evening down the 

20 western sky, who it was that dictated the purpose to ex- 
plore the region which she went nightly to visit on the 
other side of the Atlantic. We, however, live at a 
time when all these events are clearly seen to connect 
themselves with the grand purpose of Jehovah, "to bring 



Ex. 91.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 35* 

25 all men to Christ." And the people of future genera- 
tions will as clearly discern the same relation in the 
circumstances of our day. 

I am about to urge a crusade to the heathen world ; 
far different, however, from that dreadful superstition, 

30 which in the midnight of the dark ages, disturbed the 
deep slumbers of the globe, and bursting forth like a 
volcano, precipitated all Europe in a state of fusion, 
upon the lovely valleys of Judea. Our object is not to 
recover the holy sepulchre from the possession of here- 

35 tics, but to make known the death of Him that descend- 
ed to it, to wrest the keys of empire from the king of 
terrors : — the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, 
as the sword, the spear, and the battle axe ; but spirit- 
ual, as the doctrines of the Gospel exhibited in the ser- 

40 mons of our Missionaries : — the line of our march will 
not be marked by ensanguined fields, and the reign of 
desolation, but by the comforts of civilization and the 
blessings of Christianity. We shall not be followed in 
our career by the groans of dying warriors, and the 

45 shrieks of bereaved widows, but by the songs of redeem- 
ed sinners, and the shouts of enraptured angels ; our 
laurels will be stained with no blood but that of the 
Lamb of God, and drip with no tears but those of pen- 
itence and joy : — while our trophies will consist, not of 

50 bits of the true cross, or shreds of the Virgin's robe, but 
in the rejected idols of Pomare, with the regenerated 
souls of those who once adored them. James. 



91. The Hatefulness of War. 

Apart altogether from the evil of war, let us just take 
a direct look of it, and see whether we can find its char- 
acter engraven on the aspect it bears to the eye of an 
attentive observer. The stoutest heart of this assembly 
would recoil, were he who owns it to behold the de- 
struction of a single individual by some deed of violence. 
Were the man who at this moment stands before you in 
the full play and energy of health, to be in another mo- 
ment laid by some deadly aim a lifeless corpse at your 



360 exercises. [Ex. 91. 

10 feet, there is not one of you who would not prove how 
strong are the relentings of nature at a spectacle so hid- 
eous as death. There are some of you who would be 
haunted for whole days by the image of horror you had 
witnessed, — who would feel the weight of a most oppres- 
15 sive sensation upon your heart, which nothing but time 
could wear away, — who would be so pursued by it as to 
be unfit for business or for enjoyment, — who would think 
of it through the day, and it would spread a gloomy 
disquietude over your waking moments, — who would 
20 dream of it at night, and it would turn that bed which 
you courted as a retreat from the torments of an ever- 
meddling memory, into a scene of restlessness. 

But generally the death of violence is not instantane- 
ous, and there is often a sad and dreary interval between 
25 its final consummation, and the infliction of the blow 
which causes it. The winged messenger of destruction 
has not found its direct avenue to that spot, where the 
principle of life is situated ; and the soul, finding obsta- 
cles to its immediate egress, has to struggle for hours 
30 ere it can make its dreary way through the winding 
avenues of that tenement, which has been torn open by 
a brother's hand. O ! if there be something appalling 
in the suddenness of death, think not that, when grad- 
ual in its advances, you will alleviate the horrors of this 
35 sickening contemplation by viewing it in a milder form. 
O ! tell me, if there be any relentings of pity in your 
bosom, how could you endure it, to behold the agonies 
of the dying man, — as goaded by pain he grasps the cold 
ground in convulsive energy, or faint with the Joss of 
40 blood, his pulse ebbs low, and the gathering paleness 
spreads itself over his countenance, or wrapping him- 
self round in despair, he can only mark, by a few feeble 
quiverings, that life still lurks and lingers in his lacerat- 
ed body, — or lifting up a faded eye, he casts on you a 
45 look of imploring helplessness, for that succor which 
no sympathy can yield him ? 

It may be painful to dwell on such a representation, 
— but this is the way in which the cause of humanity is 
served. The eye of the sentimentalist turns away from 



Ex. 92.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 361 

50 its sufferings, and he passes by on the other side, lest he 
hear that pleading voice, which is armed with a tone Of 
remonstrance so vigorous as to disturb him. He cannot 
bear thus to pause, in imagination, on the distressing 
picture of one individual ; but multiply it ten thousand 

55 times,- — say, how much of all this distress has been heap- 
ed together on a single field, — give us the arithmetic 
of this accumulated wretchedness, and lay it before us 
with all the accuracy of an official computation, — and, 
strange to tell, not one sigh is lifted up among the crowd 

60 of eager listeners, as they stand on tiptoe, and catch 
every syllable of utterance which is read to them out of 
the registers of death. O ! say, what mystic spell is 
that which so blinds us to the suffering of our brethren, 
— which deafens to our ear the voice of bleeding hu- 

65 manity when it is aggravated by the shriek of dying 
thousands, — which makes the very magnitude of the 
slaughter, throw a softening disguise over its cruelties, 
and its horrors, — which causes us to eye with indiffer- 
ence the field that is crowded with the most revolting 

70 abominations, and arrests that sigh, which each individ- 
ual would singly have drawn from us, by the report of 
the many who have fallen, and breathed their last in 
agony, along with him 1 Chalmers. 

92. The Preservation of the Church. 

The long existence of the Christian church would be 
pronounced, upon common principles of reasoning, im- 
possible. She finds in every man a natural and invete- 
rate enemy. To encounter and overcome the unani- 
5 mous hostility of the world, she boasts no political strat- 
agem, no disciplined legions, no outward coercion of 
any kind. Yet her expectation is that she live forever. 
To mock this hope, and to blot out her memorial from 
under heaven, the most furious efforts of fanaticism, the 
10 most ingenious arts of statesmen, the concentrated 
strength of empires, have been frequently and perse- 
veringly applied. The blood of her sons and her daugh- 
ters has streamed like water ; the smoke of the scaffold 
31 



362 exercises. [Ex. 92. 

and the stake, where they wore the crown of martyrdom 
15 in the cause of Jesus, has ascended in thick volumes to 
the skies. The tribes of persecution have sported over 
her woes, and erected monuments, as they imagined, 
of her perpetual ruin. But where are her tyrants, and 
where their empires 1 The tyrants have long since gone 
20 to their own place ; their names have descended upon 
the roll of infamy ; their empires have passed, like shad- 
ows over the rock — they have successively disappeared, 
and left not a trace behind ! 

But what became of the church 1 She rose from 
25 her ashes fresh in beauty and might. Celestial glory 
beamed around her ; she dashed down the monumental 
marble of her foes, and they who hated her fled before 
her. She has celebrated the funeral of kings and king- 
doms that plotted her destruction ; and, with the in- 
30 scriptions of their pride, has transmitted to posterity 
the records of their shame. How shall this phenome- 
non be explained 1 We are at the present moment, 
witnesses of the fact ; but who can unfold the mystery. 
The book of truth and life, has made our wonder to 
35 cease. ' The Lord her God in the midst of her is 
mighty.' His presence is a fountain of health, and 
his protection a ' wall of fire.' He has betrothed her, 
in eternal covenant to himself. Her living head, in 
whom she lives, is above, and his quickening spirit 
40 shall never depart from her. Armed with divine vir- 
tue, his gospel, secret, silent, unobserved, enters the 
hearts of men and sets up an everlasting kingdom. It 
eludes all the vigilance, and baffles all the power of the 
adversary. Bars, and bolts, and dungeons are no ob- 
45 stacle to its approach : Bonds, and tortures, and death 
cannot extinguish its influence. Let no man's heart 
tremble, then, because of fear. Let no man despair 
(in these days of rebuke and blasphemy,) of the Chris- 
tian cause. The ark is launched, indeed, upon the 
50 floods ; the tempest sweeps along the deep ; the billows 
break over her on every side. But Jehovah-Jesus has 
promised to conduct her in safety to the haven of peace. 
She cannot be lost unless the pilot perish. Mason. 



Ex. Oo.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 363 



93. Obligations to the Pilgrims. 

Let us go back to the rock, where the Pilgrims 
first stood, and look abroad upon this wide and happy 
land, so full of their lineal or adopted sons, and repeat 
the question, to whom do we owe it, that " the wilder- 
5 ness has thus been turned into a fruitful field, and the 
desert has become as the garden of the Lord 1" To 
whom do we owe it under an all-wise Providence, that 
this nation, so miraculously born, is now contributing 
with such effect to the welfare of the human family, by 

10 aiding the march of mental and moral improvement, 
and giving an example to the nations of what it is to be 
pious, intelligent, and free ? To whom do we owe it, 
that with us the great ends of the social compact are ac- 
complished to a degree of perfection never before real- 

15 ized ; that the union of public power and private liber- 
ty is here exhibited in a harmony so singular and per- 
fect, as to allow the might of political combination to 
rest upon the basis of individual virtue, and to call into 
exercise, by the very freedom which such a union gives, 

20 all the powers that contribute to national prosperity ? 
To whom do we owe it, that the pure and powerful 
light of the gospel is now shed abroad over these coun- 
tries, and is rapidly gaining upon the darkness of the 
western world ; — that the importance of religion to the 

25 temporal welfare of men, and to the permanence of wise 
institutions is here beginning to be felt in its just meas- 
ure ; — that the influence of a divine revelation is not 
here, as in almost every other section of Christendom, 
wrested to purposes of worldly ambition ; — that the ho- 

30 ly Bible is not sealed from the eyes of those for whom it 
was intended ; — and the best charities and noblest pow- 
ers of the soul degraded by the terrors of a dark and 
artful superstition ? To whom do we owe it, that in 
this favored land the gospel of the grace of God has 

35 best displayed its power to bless humanity, by uniting 
the anticipations of a better world with the highest in- 
terests and pursuits of this ; — by carrying its merciful 
influence into the very business and bosoms of men ; — 



364 exercises. [Ex. 94. 

by making the ignorant wise and the miserable happy ; 

40 — by breaking the fetters of the slave, and teaching 
" the babe and the suckling" those simple and sublime 
truths, which give to life its dignity and virtue, and fill 
immortality with hope ? — To whom do we owe all this ? 
Doubtless to the Plymouth Pilgrims ! — Happily did one 

45 of those fearless exiles exclaim, in view of all that was 
past, and of the blessing, and honor, and glory that 
was yet to come, " God hath sifted three kingdoms, that 
he might gather the choice grain, and plant it in the 
wilderness !" Whelpley. 



94. A Future State. 

'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! 
How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
5 His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! 
See here thy pictur'd life : pass some few years, 
Thy flow'ring Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, 
The sober Autumn fading into age, 
And pale concluding Winter comes at last, 

10 And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled 
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes 
Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? 
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? 
Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts 

15 Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life ? 
All now are vanished ! Virtue sole survives, 
Immortal, never-failing friend of man, 
His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 
'Tis come, the glorious morn ! the second birth 

20 Of heav'n and earth ! awak'ning Nature hears 
The new-creating word, and starts to life, 
In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death 
For ever free. The great eternal scheme, 
Involving all, and in a perfect whole 

25 Uniting as the prospect wider spreads, 
To reason's eye refin'd, clears up apace. 



Ex. 95.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 365 

Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 
Confounded in the dust, adore that Pow'r 
And Wisdom oft arraign'd ; see now the cause 

30 Why unassuming worth in secret liv'd, 

And died neglected : why the good man's share 
In life was gall and bitterness of soul : 
Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd 
In starving solitude ; while luxury, 

35 In palaces, lay straining her low thought, 

To form unreal wants : why heaven-born truth, 
And moderation fair, wore the red marks 
Of superstition's scourge : why licens'd pain, 
That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, 

40 Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distress'd ! 
Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, 
And what your bounded view, which only saw 
A little part, deem'd evil, is no more ; 

45 The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, 

And one unbounded Spring encircle all. Thomson. 

95. Present facilities for evangelizing the icorld compared 
with those of Primitive times. 

The means of extending knowledge, and influencing 
the human mind by argument and moral power, are 
multiplied a thousand fold. The Lancasterian mode of 
instruction renders the instruction of the world cheap 
5 and easy. The improvements of the press have re- 
duced immensely, and will reduce yet more, the price 
of books, bringing not only Tracts and Bibles, but even 
libraries within the reach of every man and every child. 
But in the primitive age, the light of science beamed 

10 only on a small portion of mankind. The mass of man- 
kind were not, and could not be, instructed to read. 
Every thing was transient and fluctuating, because so 
little was made permanent in books, and general knowl- 
edge, and so much depended on the character, the life 

15 and energy of the living teacher. The press, that lev- 
er of Archimedes, which now moves the world, was un- 
known. 

31* 






366 exercises. [Ex. 95* 

It was the extinction of science by the invasion of 
the northern barbarians, which threw back the world ten 

20 centuries ; and this it effected through the want of per- 
manent instruction, and the omnipotent control of opin- 
ion which is exerted by the press. Could Paul have 
put in requisition the press, as it is now put in requisition 
by Christianity, and have availed himself of literary so- 

25 cieties, and Bible societies, and Lancasterian schools 
to teach the entire population to read, and of Bibles, 
and Libraries and Tracts, Mahomet had never opened 
the bottomless pit, and the pope had never set his foot 
upon the neck of kings, nor deluged Europe with the 

30 blood of the saints. 

Should any be still disposed to insist, that our advan- 
tages for evangelizing the world, are not to be compar- 
ed with those of the apostolic age, let them reverse the 
scene, and roll back the wheels of time, and obliterate 

35 the improvements in science and commerce and arts, 
which now facilitate the spread of the Gospel. Let them 
throw into darkness all the known portions of the earth, 
which were then unknown. Let them throw into dis- 
tance the propinquity of nations : and exchange their 

40 rapid intercourse for cheerless, insulated existence. 
Let the magnetic power be forgotten, and the timid 
navigator creep along the coasts of the Mediterranean, 
and tremble and cling to the shore when he looks 
out upon the loud waves of the Atlantic. Inspire 

45 idolatry with the vigor of meridian manhood, and arm 
in its defence, and against Christianity, all the civiliza- 
tion, and science, and mental power of the world. Give 
back to the implacable Jew his inveterate unbelief, and 
his vantage ground, and disposition to oppose Christian- 

50 ity in every place of his dispersion, from Jerusalem to 
every extremity of the Roman Empire. Blot out the 
means of extending knowledge and exerting influence 
upon the human mind. Destroy the Lancasterian sys- 
tem of instruction, and throw back the mass of men into 

55 a state of unreading, unreflecting ignorance. Blot out 
libraries, and Tracts ; abolish Bible, and Education, and 
Tract, and Missionary Societies ; and send the nations 
for knowledge, parchment and the slow and limited pro- 




SACRED ELOQUENCE. 367 

. ductions of the pen. Let all the improvements in civil 

60 government be obliterated, and the world be driven from 
the happy arts of self-government to the guardianship of 
dungeons and chains. Let liberty of conscience ex- 
pire, and the church, now emancipated, and walking 
forth in her unsullied loveliness, return to the guidance 

65 of secular policy, and the perversions and corruptions 
of an unholy priesthood. And now reduce the 200, 
000,000 of nominal, and the 10,000,000 of real Chris- 
tians, spread over the earth, to 500 disciples, and to 
twelve apostles, assembled, for fear of the Jews, in an 

70 upper chamber to enjoy the blessing of a secret prayer- 
meeting. And give them the power of miracles, and 
the gift of tongues, and send them out into all the earth, 
to preach the gospel to every creature. 

Is this the apostolic advantage for propagating Chris- 

75 tianity, which throws into discouragement and hopeless 
imbecility all our present means of enlightening and 
disenthralling the world? They, comparatively, had 
nothing to begin with, and every thing to oppose them ; 
and yet, in three hundred years, the whole civilized, and 

80 much of the barbarous, world, was brought under the 
dominion of Christianity. And shall we with the ad- 
vantage of all their labors, and of our numbers, and a 
thousand fold increase of opportunity, and moral power, 
stand halting in unbelief, while the Lord Jesus, is still 

85 repeating the injunction, Go ye out into all the world, 
and preach the Gospel to every creature : and repeating 
the assurance, Lo I am with you alway, even to the 
end of the world ? Shame on our sloth ! Shame upon 
our unbelief ! Beechcr. 

96. Civilization merely ineffectual to convert the world. 

Suppose that, out of compliment to the mockers of 
Missionary zeal, we relinquished its highest, and indeed 
its identifying object : suppose we confined our efforts 
exclusively to civilization, and consented to send the 
5 plough and the loom instead of the cross : and admitting 
that upon this reduced scale of operation, we were as 
successful as could be desired, till we had even raised 



368 exercises. [Ex. 96. 

the man of the woods into the man of the city, and ele- 
vated the savage into the sage, what, T ask, have we ef- 

10 fected, viewing man, as we, with the New Testament in 
our hands must view him, in the whole range of his ex- 
istence ? We have poured the light of science on his 
path, and strewed it with the flowers of literature, but if 
we leave him to the dominion of his vices, it is still the 

15 path to perdition. We have taught him to fare sumptu- 
ously every day ; but alas ! this, in his case, is only like 
offering viands to the wretch who is on his way to the 
place of execution. We have stripped off his sheep-skin 
kaross, and clothed him with purple and fine linen, but 

20 it is only to aid him, like Dives, to move in state to the 
torments of the damned. We may raise the sculptured 
monument upon his bones, in place of the earthly hil- 
lock in the wilderness, but while his ashes repose in gran- 
deur, the worm that never dies devours his soul, and 

25 the flame that can never be extinguished consumes his 
peace. We confer a boon, which is valuable, it is true, 
while it lasts, but it is a boon which the soul drops as 
she steps across the confines of the unseen world, and 
then passes on to wander through eternity, " wretched, 

30 and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." But 
let us aim. first to save the soul, by bringing it under the 
influence of Christianity, and then as we advance to the 
ultimate end of our exertions, we shall not fail to scatter 
along the path of our benevolence all the seeds of civili- 

35 zation and social order. 

What is it which, at this moment, is kindling the in- 
tellect, softening the manners, sanctifying the hearts, and 
purifying the lives of the numerous tribes of the degrad- 
ed sons of Ham? It is the faithful saying, that " Christ 

40 Jesus came into the world to save sinners." It is this, 
poured in artless strains from the lips of our Missiona- 
ries, and set home upon the soul, by the power of the 
Holy Ghost, which is more than realizing the fable of 
Amphion's lyre, and raising up the stones of African 

45 deserts, into the walls of the church of God. 

O, had the cannibal inhabitants of Taheite been per- 
suaded to renounce their wretched superstition and cm- 



Ex. 97.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 369 

el customs, by any efforts of a purely rational nature ; 

50 had the apostles of philosophy been the instruments of 
their conversion, and had the gods of Pomare been sent 
home by them, to be deposited in the Museum, instead 
of the Missionary Rooms, how would the world have 
rung with the praises of all-sufficient Reason. New 

55 temples would have been raised to this Modern Mi- 
nerva, while all the tribes of the Uluminati would have 
been seen moving in triumphal procession to her 
shrine, chanting as they went the honors of their il- 
lustrious goddess. But thine, thou crucified Redeem- 

60 er ; thine is the power, and thine shall be the glory of 

this conquest. Those isles of the Southern Sea shall 

be laid at thy feet, as the trophies of thy cross, and 

shall be added as fresh jewels to thy mediatorial crown. 

And, indeed, not to quit our own age, or our own 

65 land, do we not see all around us the attractions of the 
cross ? What is it that guides and governs the tide of 
religious popularity, whether it rolls in the channels of 
the Establishment, or those of Dissent ? Is it not this, 
which causes the mighty influx of the spring tide in one 

70 place ; and is it not the absence of it, which occasions 
the dull retiring ebb in another ? Yes ! and raise me 
but a barn, in the very shadow of St. Paul's Cathedral, 
and give me a man who shall preach Christ crucified, 
with something of the energy which the all-inspiring 

75 theme is calculated to awaken ; and in spite of the 
meanness of the one, and the magnificence of the other, 
you shall see the former crowded with warm hearts, 
while the matins and vespers of the latter, if the Gospel 
be not preached there, shall be chanted to the statues 

80 of the mighty dead. James. 

97. The forebodings of a heathen approaching death. 

With what feelings must an intelligent heathen ap- 
proach his final catastrophe ! He has seen his ancestors 
go down to the dust, and often, when standing upon 
their graves, has felt a distressing solicitude, which 
5 nothing could relieve, to know something of that statQ 



370 EXERCISES. [Ex. 98. 

of being into which they had passed when they vanish- 
ed from the earth. At length his own turn is arrived, 
and he too must die. Whither is he going? What is 
to become of him ? If there be a God, how shall he 

10 meet him? If there be a future state, how and where 
is he to spend it ? Not a whisper of consolation is 
heard from the tomb, nor a ray of satisfactory light is 
thrown upon its darkness by the instructions of the liv- 
ing. Oh ! with what horror does he turn his half avert- 

15 ed eye upon that sepulchre, in which he must shortly 
be interred ; and with what dreadful efforts does he en- 
deavor to force his reluctant spirit upon her destiny, 
starting every moment at the spectres which rise in her 
own perturbed imagination. Oh ! how much would he 

20 give for some one to tell him what there is beyond the 
grave, and what he must do to get rid of his guilt, so as 
to be admited to the world of the blessed. Just at this 
time, one of our Missionaries reaches his abode, and 
declares to hirn that Christ, by his death, has brought 

25 life and immortality to light. This is music indeed : 
he never heard such news before. The Spirit of God 
gives effect to the word. He is drawn to Jesus, clasp- 
ing to his bosom that doctrine, which gives hirn life in 
death, and hope in despair. And he who but a few 

30 weeks before was stumbling upon the dark mountains 
of idolatry, just ready to be precipitated into eternal 
night, quits the scene of his earthly existence with the 
language of Simeon upon his lips, " Lord, now lettest 
thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have 

35 seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the 
face of all people, a light to enlighten the Gentiles." 

James. 
98. The efficacy of the Cross. 

Wherever the Apostles went, the doctrine of the cross 
was the theme of their public discourses, and the topic 
of their more private instruction. Whether standing 
amidst the elegancies of Corinth, the classic beauties of 
5 Athens, the overwhelming grandeur of Rome, or the 
hallowed scenes of Jerusalem, they presented this to all 
men alike. They did not conceal the ignominy of the 



Ex. 98.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 371 

accursed tree behind the sublime morality of the Gos- 
pel, and permit the unsightly object to steal out only in- 
10 sidiously and by degrees ; but exhibited it naked, and 
at once, as the very foundation of that religion which 
they were commissioned and inspired to promulgate. 
When the Jew on one hand was demanding a sign, and 
the Greek on the other was asking for wisdom, they re- 
15 plied to both, " we preach Christ crucified." They 
never courted the philosopher by a parade of science, 
the orator by a blaze of eloquence, or the curious by the 
aid of novelty. They tried no experiments, made no 
digressions. Feeling the power of this sublime truth in 
20 their own souls ; enamored by the thousand thousand 
charm 3 with which they saw it attended ; emboldened 
by the victories which followed its career ; and acting 
in obedience to that divine authority, which regulated 
all their conduct, they kindled into raptures amidst the 
25 scorn and rage of an ungodly world, and in the fervor 
of their zeal, threw off an impassioned sentiment, which 
has been returned in distinct echo from every Christian 
land, and been adopted as the watch-word of an evan- 
gelical ministry, " God forbid that I should glory, save 
30 in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

Wonderful was the effect of their labor. A revolu- 
tion more extraordinary than history records, or imagin- 
ation could have conceived, was every where effected, 
and this by what was derided by the men who gave 
35 laws to the opinions of the world, as " the foolishness of 
preaching." The powers of Paganism beheld the wor- 
shipers of the gods drawn away from their shrines, by 
an influence which they could neither understand nor 
resist. Not the authority of the Olympian Jove, nor the 
40 seductive rites of the Paphian Goddess, could any lon- 
ger retain the homage of their former votaries. The 
exquisite beauty of their temples and their statues, with 
all those fascinations which their mythology was calcu- 
lated to exert Upon a people of refined taste and vicious 
45 habits, became the objects not only of indifference, but 
abhorrence ; and millions by whom the cross must have 
been contemplated with mental revulsion as a matter of 



372 exercises. [Ex. 98. 

taste, embraced it with ecstasy as the means of salva- 
tion. The idolatrous rites were deserted, the altars 

50 overturned, the deities left to themselves to sympathize 
with each other in dumb consternation, the lying voice 
of the oracles was hushed, the deceptive light of philos- 
ophy was extinguished, Satan fell like lightning from 
heaven, while the ministers of light rose with the num- 

55 ber, the order, and the brilliancy of the stars. Resist- 
ance only promoted the cause it tended to oppose, 
and persecution, like the wind of heaven blowing upon 
a conflagration, served only to spread the flame. In 
vain " did the kings of the earth set themselves, and 

60 the rulers take counsel together against the Lord." 
The Imperial eagle collecting all her strength, and rous- 
ing all her fury, attacked the Lamb of God, till she too, 
subdued and captivated by the cross, cowered beneath 
its emblem, as it floated from the towers of the capitol, 

65 and Christianity with the purple waving from her shoul- 
ders, and the diadem sparkling upon her brows, was 
proclaimed to be the Truth of God, and the Empress of 
the world, on that very throne of the Caesars where she 
had been so often arraigned as a criminal, and condemn- 

70 ed as an impostor. 

What was it, I ask, which, by the instrumentality of 
Luther, and Melancthon, and Calvin, and Zuingle, dis- 
solved the power of the Beast on the continent of Eu- 
rope, and drew away a third part of his worshipers, 

75 within the pale of a more scriptural communion? It 
was the doctrine of justification by faith in the blood of 
Christ. 

David Brainerd, the apostle of the American Indians, 
has left upon record an essay to inform the world, that 

SO it was by preaching Christ crucified, he was enabled to 
raise a Christian church, in those desolate wilds where 
he labored, and among a barbarous people devoted to 
witchcraft, drunkenness, and idolatry. 

The Moravian Missionaries, those holy, patient, unos- 

85 tentatious servants of our Lord, have employed with pe- 
culiar effect these heaven-appointed means,:in convert- 
ing and civilizing the once pilfering and murderous Es- 
quimaux. With these, have they also " dared the ter- 






Ex. 99, 100.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 373 

rors of an Arctic sky, and directing their adventurous 
90 course through the floating fields and frost reared pre- 
cipices that guard the secrets of the Pole," have caused 
the banner of the cross to wave over the throne of ever- 
lasting winter, and warmed the cold bosom of the shiv- 
ering Greenlander with the love of Christ. James. 

99. The Fall of Niagara. 

The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 
While I look upward to thee. It would seem 
As if God pour'd thee from his ' hollow hand, 5 
And hung his bow upon thy awful front ; 
5 And spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him 
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Savior's sake, 
'The sound of many waters;' and had bade 
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, 
And notch His cent'ries in the eternal rocks. 

10 Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we, 
That hear the question of that voice sublime? 
Oh ! what are all the notes that ever rung 
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side ! 
Yea, what is all the riot man can make 

15 In his short life, to thy unceasing roar ! 

And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him, 
Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the waters far 
Above its loftiest mountains 1 — a light wave, 
That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might. 

Brainard. 

100. Reform in Morals. 

The crisis has come. By the people of this genera- 
tion, by ourselves probably, the amazing question is to 
be decided, whether the inheritance of our fathers shall 
be preserved or thrown away ; whether our Sabbaths 
5 shall be a delight or a loathing ; whether the taverns, 
on that holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, 
or the sanctuary of God, with humble worshipers ; 
whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and 
poverty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and vio- 
32 



S74 exercises. [Ex. 101* 

10 lence our land, or whether industry, and temperance, 
and righteousness, shall be the stability of our times ; 
whether mild laws shall receive the cheerful sub- 
mission of freemen, or the iron rod of a tyrant com- 
pel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceiv- 

15 ed. Human nature in this state is like human nature 
everywhere. All actual difference in our favor is ad- 
ventitious, and the result of our laws, institutions and 
habits. It is a moral influence, which, with the bless- 
ing of God, has formed a state of society so eminently 

20 desirable. The same influence, which has formed it, is 
indispensable to its preservation. The rocks and hills 
of New-England will remain till the last conflagration. 
But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the 
worship of God be abandoned, the government and re- 

25 ligious instruction of children neglected, and the streams 
of intemperance be permitted to flow, and her glory 
will depart. The wall of fire will no more surround 
her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her 
defence. 

30 If we neglect our duty, and suffer our laws and insti- 
tutions to go down, we give them up forever. It is easy 
to relax, easy to retreat, but impossible, when the abom- 
ination of desolation has once passed over New-Eng- 
land, to rear again the thrown down altars, and gather 

35 again the fragments, and build up the ruins of demol- 
ished institutions. Another New-England, nor we, nor 
our children shall ever see, if this be destroyed. All is 
lost irretrievably, when the land marks are once remov- 
ed, and the bands which now hold us are once broken. 

40 Such institutions, and such a state of society, can be es- 
tablished only by such men as our fathers were, and in 
such circumstances as they were in. They could not 
have made a New-England in Holland. They made the 
attempt, but failed. 

45 The hand that overturns our laws and altars, is the 
hand of death unbarring the gate of Pandemonium, and 
letting loose upon our land the crimes and the miseries 
of hell. If the Most High should stand aloof, and cast 
not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it 

50 would seem to be full of superlative woe. But he will 



Ex. 101.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 375 

not stand aloof. As we shall have begun an open con- 
troversy with him, he will contend openly with us. And 
never, since the earth stood, has it been so fearful a 
thing for nations to fall into the hands of the living God. 

55 The day of vengeance is in his heart, the day of judgment 
has come ; the great earthquake which sinks Babylon 
is shaking the nations, and the waves of the mighty com- 
motion are dashing upon every shore. Is this then a 
time to remove foundations, when the earth itself is 

60 shaken? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, 
when the hearts of men are failing them for fear, and 
for looking after those things which are coming on the 
earth 1 Is this a time to run upon his neck and the 
thick bosses of his buckler, when the nations are drink- 

65 ing blood, and fainting, and passing away in his wrath t 
Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith when his 
arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain 1 To cut 
from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting 
and the sea and the waves are roaring, and thunders 

70 are uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the 
heavens, and the great hail is falling from heaven upon 
men, and every "mountain, sea and island is fleeing in 
. dismay from the face of an incensed God ? Beecher, 

101. Universal spread of the Bible. 

It has been well said by a great politician of another 
country, by Edmund Burke, that " religion is the basis 
of civil society" — and especially he might have added, 
of a free state. And it has been said by a greater than 
5 he, by our own Washington, that " of all the dispositions 
and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion 
and Morality are indispensable supports." And with- 
out pursuing the idea through all its illustrations, (for 
which I have not time) what, I would ask, without their 

10 genial influences, what is to moderate and chasten that 
pride of self-government, that lust of power, which is 
generated and inflamed by all our institutions 1 What 
is to prevent our liberty, great as it is, from lapsing in- 
to licentiousness 1 we hold, you know, (and rightly too,) 

15 that all government is or ought to be, made and manag- 



S76 exercises. [Ex. 101. 

ed for the benefit of the people. And we say that " we 
the people" are the sovereigns of the country, the foun- 
tain of law and honor ; and we appoint our rulers for 
servants, to follow our instructions, and obey our will in 

20 all things. And we maintain, (or many do) that we the 
people can do no wrong, and that our voice is the voice 
of God. Here, you see, is absolute power, and it is 
the nature of absolute power, we know, to corrupt and 
inflate its holders, and that whether they be many or 

25 few. And what now, I ask you, is to save us from 
the abuse of all this power ? What is to prevent our 
free democracy — especially when our country becomes 
crowded with people, as it will be by and by, even 
through the woods and prairies, and our cities are chok- 

30 ed with men, almost stifling each other with their hot 
breath — what is to prevent our free democracy from fol- 
lowing its natural bent, and launching us all, or those 
who come after us, into a wild and lawless anarchy ? I 
know, that we plume ourselves, and with some rea- 

35 son too, upon that principle of our government, almost 
unknown to the ancients, which we are pleased to call 
our invention, or discovery, though we might more tru- 
ly and modestly term it our felicity, growing out of our 
situation and circumstances, by the good providence of 

40 God, our elective franchise ; and this, we think, is to 
save us from their fates.- But what, I would ask our 
politicians, is to save our elective franchise itself? 
What is to make it worth having ? What is to make us 
choose wise and honest men to make our laws ? W T hat 

45 is to execute them after they are made ? What is to 
save us the people from the ambition and treachery of 
our own elected servants ? What is to keep our ser- 
vants from becoming our masters? And what is to 
save us from ourselves — from our own passions and vices, 

50 the only formidable enemies of republics ; the only 
ones at least that we can or ought to dread ? Our 
general intelligence and virtue — the general intelligence 
and virtue of all classes of our people — with the blessing 
of God Almighty upon us — and nothing else. But this 

55 intelligence and virtue are to be shed abroad, in a'great 
measure, by the Bible, and the Bible alone. It is quite 



Ex. 101.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 377 

clear at least, I think, that they can never be diffused 
to any proper or sufficient extent through the mass of 
the people, without a free and generous circulation of 
60 this book. And all experience, I think, ancient and 
modern, confirms my sentiment. You remember Ath- 
ens — she was the eye of Greece — the eye of all the earth 
— and you remember how she rose, and flourished in 
arts and arms, and diffused herself abroad, till she be- 
65 came the light and beauty of the world. But now, alas ! 
how changed ! — she sits among her fallen columns, and 
her broken shrines — accusing fate. And why ? Her 
oracle is dumb ; but I will answer for her — it is because 
she had no Bible. True, she was religious enough, and 
70 overmuch, in her own way and style. For she had al- 
ways, you know, a large stock of gods and goddess- 
es, (such as they were) on hand, to suit the taste of ev- 
ery body. And she manufactured them at home, and 
imported them from abroad. And she commanded her 
75 philosophers to extol them, and condemned the books of 
her atheist scribbler to the flames. And she built tem- 
ples for them, and raised statues to them, as fine, and 
fair, and fashionable, as the genius of sculpture could 
make them. And she had an altar for every one of 
80 them that she knew or had ever heard of, or dreamed 
about; and one more — and it was inscribed " to the 
unknown god." But there it was, — with all her wis- 
dom she knew not God — for she had no Bible, bringing 
life and immortality to light, to reveal him to her. In 
85 vain, therefore, did she guard that statue of Minerva in 
her temple. She had no Bible to diffuse the knowledge 
of God, and intelligence and virtue along with it, among 
her people — she had no Bible — and she fell. And 
what now, I ask you, is to save our city, our repub- 
90 lie, from the same fate ? That Bible which she want- 
ed ; but which, I thank God, we have. Yes, the Bible, 
the Bible is our true palladium, sent down to us from 
Heaven, to preserve our freedom ; and we will guard it 
with holy care — for we know that whilst we keep it, our 
95 city cannot be taken, our country will be safe. Yes, 
and I cannot help imagining at this moment, remember- 
32* 



ft 



378 exercises. [Ex. 102. 

ing whose words I have been extending, with what 
joy that great and good man, whom we fondly and tru- 
ly call, The Father of our country, would have hailed 

100 the day of this Society. O ! if he could have seen its 
light rising upon our land, with what zeal would he 
have come forward from the shade of his retirement, to 
enrol himself among its members and friends. With 
what patriotic pride, with what Christian ardor, he 

105 would have embraced our cause — and, like the good 
old prophet in the temple, when he held up the young 
Desire of Nations in his arms, he would have exclaim- 
ed, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
according to thy word : for mine eyes have seen thy 

110 salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of 
all people, a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glo- 
ry of thy people Israel !" Alas ! he " died without 
the sight." But, from heaven where he lives, on this 
auspicious anniversary of our society, with the associ- 

115 ated spirits of our venerable Boudinot, and Clarkson, 
he looks down upon our institution with a smile of 
complacency, because he sees in all our toils new 
pledges for the peace, and safety, and freedom of his 
still beloved country. Maxwell. 

102. Isaiah xiii. 

1 The sentence against Babylon, which was revealed to 

Isaiah the son of Amots. 

2 On the lofty mountain, elevate the banner, 
Lift up the voice to them,* wave the hand, 
That they may enter into the gates of the tyrants. 

3 I have given orders to my consecrated [warriors] 

I have ordered my heroes [to execute] my indignation, 
My proud exulters. 

4 [Hark !] The noise of a multitude upon the mountains, 

like that of a great nation ! 
The tumult of kingdoms, of assembled nations ! 
Jehovah God of Hosts mustereth his army for battle. 

5 They come from a distant land, 
From the end of the heaven. 

* The Medes. 



Ex. 102.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 379 

Jehovah and the instruments of his indignation, 
To lay waste the whole country. 

6 Howl ye, for the day of Jehovah is near, 

Yea, destruction from the Almighty is coming. 

7 Therefore all hands shall hang down, 
And every heart of man shall be melted. 

8 They shall be in consternation, 

Distress and anguish shall lay hold upon them, 
As a travailing woman shall they be distressed, 
One shall gaze upon another with astonishment, 
Their faces shall glow like flames. 
9 -Behold ! The day of Jehovah cometh, 

Dreadful is his anger and fierce indignation, 
To make the country a waste, 
And to destroy sinners out of it. 

10 For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof, 
Shall not give their light ; 

The sun shall be darkened in his march, 
And the moon shall withhold her splendor. 

11 For I will visit upon the land its evil, 
And upon the wicked, their iniquity, 

I will make the glorying of the proud to cease, 

And the haughtiness of the tyrants will I bring down. 

12 1 will make a man more scarce than gold, 
Yea men, than the gold of Ophir. 

13 Moreover I will make the heavens to shake ; 
And the earth shall totter from its place ; 
Because of the indignation of Jehovah of hosts, 
In the day of his fierce anger. 

14 And men shall be like a frighted doe, 

And like sheep, which no one collects together. 
Each one shall turn to his own people, 
And each fly to his own country. 

15 Every one who is overtaken shall be thrust through, 
And all who are collected together shall fall by the 

sword. 

16 Their children shall be dashed in pieces before their 

eyes, 



830 exercises. [Ex. 102. 

Their houses shall be rifled, and their women ravished. 

17 Behold, I will raise up against them the Medes, 
Who make'no account of silver, 

And as to gold they regard it not. 

18 Their bows shall strike down the youth, 

On the fruit of the womb they will have no compassion. 
Their eye will not pity the children. 

19 So shall Babylon, the pride of kingdoms, 
The boast and glory of the Chaldeans, 

Be like Sodom and Gomorrah which God destroyed ; 

20 It shall never more be inhabited, 

Nor shall it be dwelt in, from generation to generation. 

There the Arabian shall not pitch his tent, 

Nor the shepherds make their flocks to lie down there. 

21 But there the wild beasts of the desert shall lie down, 
And howling monsters shall fill their houses, 
There the ostriches shall dwell, 

And the satyrs shall revel there. 

22 The jackals shall howl in their palaces, 

And the dragons in their magnificent pleasure-houses ; 

For her time is near, 

And her days shall not be prolonged. 

Chapter xiv. 

1 Then will Jehovah have compassion upon Jacob, 
And set his love again upon Israel ; 

And he will transfer them to their own country, 

And strangers shall be joined to them, 

They shall be connected with the house of Jacob. 

2 The nations shall take them and bring them to their 

place, 
And the house of Israel shall possess them as servants 

and handmaids, 
In the land of Jehovah ; 
And their captors shall become captives, 
And they shall rule over their oppressors. 

3 Then it shall come to pass, 

When Jehovah shall give thee rest from thy trouble and 
thine adversity, 






\ 



Ex. 102.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. $81 

And from the oppressive service which was laid upon 
thee, 

4 Thou shalt utter this song over the king of Babylon, 

and say : 
How has the oppressor come to an end, 
The exactor of golden tribute ceased ! 

5 Jehovah has broken the staff of the wicked, 
The rod of the tyrants. 

6 He smote the people in anger, 
With a stroke that was not remitted ; 
He lorded it over the nations in wrath, 
With oppression that never ceased. , 

7 But now the whole country is quiet, 
They break out into singing. 

8 The fir-trees, also, exult over thee, 
And the cedars of Lebanon, [saying,] 
" Since thou art laid there, 

No feller has come up against us." 

9 Hades from beneath is in commotion on account of thee, 
To meet thee at thy coming. 

Because of thee she rouses up her ghosts, 

All the mighty ones of the earth she raises from their 

thrones, 
All the kings of the nations. 

10 All of them will accost thee, and say, 
" Art thou become feeble, as we are ? 
Art thou become like unto us V 

11 Down to Hades goes thy pomp, 
And the noise of thy harps ! 

The worm is thy couch under thee, 
And the maggot is thy covering. 

12 Bright and morning star, 

How art thou fallen from heaven ! 
How art thou prostrate upon the earth, 
Who didst crush the nations ! 

13 But thou didst say in thine heart ; 
" I will ascend the heavens, 

Above the stars of God I will elevate my throne ; 
I will sit on the mount of solemn assembly, 



!) 



382 exercises. [Ex. 102. 

In the recesses of the north ; 

14 I will mount above the height of the clouds, 
I will be like the most high." 

15 But, to Hades hast thou come down, 
To the recesses of the pit. 

16 Those that see thee shall gaze upon thee, 
They shall attentively view thee, [and say,] 

" Is this the man who made the earth to quake ? 
Who made kingdoms to tremble ? 

17 Who made the world a desert, 
And laid waste its cities ? 

Who dismissed not his prisoners to their home?" 

18 All the kings of the nations, 
Yea all of them, repose in glory, 
Each in his own place. 

19 But thou art cast out from thy grave, 
Like a loathsome branch ; 

Thou art covered with the slain, 

With those who are pierced through by the sword, 

Who go down into the stony pit ; 

Thy carcase is trodden under foot. 

20 Thou shalt not be joined with them in the burial, 
For thou hast destroyed thy country, 

Thou hast slain thy people ; 

The seed of evil doers shall never more be named. 

21 Prepare ye* slaughter for his children, 
Because of the iniquity of their fathers, 

That they may never rise up and possess the [promised] 

land, 
Nor fill the country with enemies. 

22 I will rise up against them, 
Saith Jehovah of hosts ; 

I will cut off from Babylon the name and the residue, 
Posterity and offspring, saith Jehovah. 

23 I will make it a possession of the porcupine, 
And [turn it] to pools of water ; 

I will sweep it with the besom of destruction, 

Saith Jehovah of hosts. Stuart's Translation. 

*TotheMedes. 



I 



i 



EX. 103.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 383 

103. Eternity of God. 

If all who live and breathe around us are the creatures 
of yesterday, and destined to see destruction to-morrow ; 
if the same condition is our own, and the same sentence 
is written against us ; if the solid forms of inanimate na- 
5 ture and laborious art are fading and falling, if we look 
in vain for durability to the very roots of the mountains, 
where shall we turn, and on what can we rely ? Can 
no support be offered ; can no source of confidence be 
named 1 Oh yes ! there is one Being to whom we can 
10 look with a perfect conviction of finding that security, 
which nothing about us can give, and which nothing 
about us can take away. To this Being we can lift up 
our souls, and on him we may rest them, exclaiming in 
the language of the monarch of Israel, " Before the 
15 mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst form- 
ed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to 
everlasting thou art God." "Of old hast thou laid the 
foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work 
of thy hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure, 
20 yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment, as a ves- 
ture shalt thou change them, and they shall be chang- 
ed, but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no 
end." 

The eternity of God is a subject of contemplation, 
25 which at the same time that it overwhelms us with as- 
tonishment and awe, affords us an immoveable ground 
of confidence in the midst of a changing world. All 
things which surround us, all these dying, mouldering 
inhabitants of time, must have had a Creator, for the plain 
30 reason, that they could not have created themselves. 
And their Creator must have existed from all eternity, 
for the plain reason, that the first cause must necessa- 
rily be uncaused. As we cannot suppose a beginning 
without a cause of existence, that which is the cause of 
35 all existence, must be self-existent, and could have had 
no beginning. And, as it had no beginning, so also, as 
it is beyond the reach of all influence and control, as it 
is independent and almighty, it will have no end. 



384 exercises. [Ex. 103. 

Here then is a support, which will never fail ; here is 

40 a foundation which can never be moved — the everlast- 
ing Creator of countless worlds, " the high and lofty 
One that inhabiteth eternity." What a sublime con- 
ception ! He inhabits eternity, occupies this inconceiva- 
ble duration, pervades and fills throughout, this boundless 

45 dwelling. Ages on ages before even the dust of which we 
are formed was created, he had existed in infinite ma- 
jesty, and ages on ages will roll away after we have all 
returned to the dust whence we were taken, and still 
he will exist, in infinite majesty, living in the eternity 
A 50 of his own nature, reigning in the plenitude of his own 

omnipotence, forever sending forth the word, which 
fj forms, supports, and governs all things, commanding new 

created light to shine on new created worlds, and rais- 
ing up new created generations to inhabit them. 

55 The contemplation of this glorious attribute of God, 
is fitted to excite in our minds the most animating and 
consoling reflections. Standing, as we are, amid the 
ruins of time, and the wrecks of mortality, where every 
thing about us is created and dependent, proceeding 

60 from nothing, and hastening to destruction, we rejoice 
that something is presented to our view which has stood 
from everlasting, and will remain forever. When we 
have looked on the pleasures of life, and they have van- 
ished away ; when we have looked on the works of na- 

65 ture, and perceived that they were changing ; on the 
monuments of art, and seen that they would not stand ; 
on our friends, and they have fled while we were gaz- 
ing ; on ourselves, and felt that we were as fleeting as 
they ; when we have looked on every object to which 

70 we could turn our anxious eyes, and they have all told 

/ us that they could give us no hope nor support, because 

they were so feeble themselves ; we can look to the 

throne of God : change and decay have never reached 

that ; the revolution of ages has never moved it ; the 

75 waves of an eternity have been rushing past it, but it 
has remained unshaken ; the waves of another eternity 
are rushing toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be 
disturbed. Greenwood. 



Ex. 104, 105.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 385 



104. Epitaph on Mrs. Mason. 

Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear ; 

Take that best gift, which Heaven so lately gave ; 
To Bristol's fount I bore, with trembling care, 

Her faded form : — She bow'd to taste the wave, 
5 And died. Does youth, does beauty, read the line? 

Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? 
Speak, dead Maria ! breathe a strain divine: 

Ev'n from the grave thou shalt have pow'r to charm. 
Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee ; 
10 Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move ; 
And, if as fair, from vanity as free, 

As firm in friendship, and as fond in love, 
Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die ! 

('Twas even to thee) yet, the dread path once trod, 
15 Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, 

And bids the " pure in heart behold their God." 



105. Skepticism. 

O ! lives there, heaven ! beneath thy dread expanse, 
One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance, 
Content to feed with pleasures unrefined, 
The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind ; 
5 Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every trust, 
In joyless union wedded to the dust, 
Could all his parting energy dismiss, 
And call this barren world sufficient bliss ? — 
There live, alas ! of heaven-directed mien, 

10 Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene, 
Who hail thee, man ! the pilgrim of a day, 
Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay ! 
Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower, 
Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower ! 

15 A friendless slave, a child without a sire, 
Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, 
Lights to the grave his chance-created form, 
As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm ; 
33 



386 exercises. [Ex. 105. 

And, when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er, 
20 To night and silence sink foreverrnore ! — 

Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, 
Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame? 
Is this your triumph — this your proud applause, 
Children of Truth, and champions of her cause ? 
25 For this hath Science searched, on weary wing, 
By shore and sea — each mute and living thing ? 
Launched with Iberia's pilot from the steep, 
To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep? 
Or round the cope her living chariot driven, 
\ 30 And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven? 

Oh ! star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered there, 
(7 To waft us home the message of despair ? — 

J Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to suit, 

Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit ! 
35 Ah me ! the laurelled wreath that murder rears, 
Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's tears, 
Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, 
As waves the night-shade round the skeptic head. 
What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain? 
40 I smile on death, if heaven-ward hope remain! 
But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife 
Be all the faithless charter of my life ! 
If chance awaked, inexorable power ! 
This frail and feverish being of an hour, 
45 Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep, 
Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, 
To know Delight but by her parting smile, 
And toil, and wish, and weep a little while ; 
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain 
50 This troubled pulse, and visionary brain ! 
Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom ! 
And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb ! 
Truth, ever lovely since the world began, 
The foe of tyrants and the friend of man, — 
55 How can thy words from balmy slumber start 
Reposing Virtue, pillowed on the heart ! 
Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled, 
And that were true which nature never told, 
Let wisdom smile not on her conquered field ; 



Ex. 106.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 387 

60 No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed ! 
Oh ! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate, 
The doom that bars us from a better fate ; 
But, sad as angels for the good man's sin, 
Weep to record, and blush to give it in ! Campbell. 

106. The Atheist. 

How wonderful the process by which a new man can 
grow to the immense intelligence that can know that 
there is no God. What ages and what lights are ne- 
cessary for this stupendous attainment! This intelli- 
5 gence involves the very attributes of Divinity, while a 
God is denied. For unless this man is omnipresent, 
unless he is at this moment in every place in the uni- 
verse, he cannot know but there may be in some place 
manifestations of a Deity by which even he would be 

10 overpowered. If he does not know absolutely every 
agent in the universe, the one that he does not know 
may be God. If he is not himself the chief agent in 
the universe, and does not know what is so, that which 
is so may be God. If he is not in absolute possession 

15 of all the propositions that constitute universal truth, 
the one which he wants may be, that there is a God. 
If he cannot with certainty assign the cause of all that 
he perceives to exist, that cause may be a God. If he 
does not know every thing that has been done in the 

20 immeasurable ages that are past, some things may have 
been done by a God. Thus, unless he knows all things, 
that is, unless he precludes another Deity by being one 
himself, he cannot know that the Being whose existence 
he rejects, does not exist. But he must know that he 

25 does not exist, else he deserves equal contempt and 
compassion for the temerity with which he firmly avows 
his rejection and acts accordingly. And yet a man of 
ordinary age and intelligence may present himself to 
you with an avowal of being thus distinguished from 

30 the crowd ; and if he would describe the manner in 
which he has attained this eminence, you would feel a 
melancholy interest in contemplating that process of 
which the result is so portentous. 



I) 



388 exercises. [Ex. 107. 

Surely the creature that thus lifts his voice, and de- 
35 fies all invisible power within the possibilities of infini- 
ty, challenging whatever unknown being may hear him, 
and who may, if he will, appropriate that title of Almigh- 
ty which is pronounced in scorn, to evince his existence, 
by his vengeance ; surely this man was not as yesterday 
40 a little child, that would tremble and cry at the approach 
of a diminutive reptile. Foster. 

107. Duelling. 

And now let me ask you solemnly ; will you persist 
in your attachment to these guilty men ? Will you any 
longer, either deliberately or thoughtlessly, vote for 
them ? Will you renounce allegiance to your Maker, 
5 and cast the bible behind your back? Will you con- 
fide in men void of the fear of God and destitute of mor- 
al principle? Will you intrust life to murderers — liber- 
ty to despots ? Are you patriots, and will you consti- 
tute those legislators who despise you, and despise equal 

10 laws, and wage war with the eternal principles of jus- 
tice ? Are you Christians, and by upholding duellists 
will you deluge the land with blood, and fill it with wid- 
ows and orphans ? Will you aid in the prostration 
of justice — in the escape of criminals — in the extinc- 

15 tion of liberty ? Will you place in the chair of state — 
in the senate — on the bench of justice, or in the assem- 
bly, men who, if able, would murder you for speaking 
truth ? Shall your elections turn on expert shooting, 
and your deliberative bodies become an host of armed 

20 men ? Will you destroy public morality by tolerating, 
yea, rewarding, the most infamous crimes? Will you 
teach your children that there is no guilt in murder? 
— Will you instruct them to think lightly of duelling, 
and train them up to destroy or be destroyed in the 

25 bloody field ? Will you bestow your suffrage, when you 
know that by withholding it you may arrest this deadly 
evil — when this too is the only way in which it can be 
done, and when the present is perhaps the only period 
in which resistance can avail — when the remedy is so 

30 easy, so entirely in your power ; and when God, if you 



Ex. 107.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 389 

do not punish these guilty men, will most inevitably 
punish you 1 

If the widows and the orphans, which this wasting 
evil has created and is yearly multiplying, might all 

35 stand before you, could you witness their tears ; listen 
to their details of anguish 1 Should they point to the 
murderers of their fathers, their husbands, and their 
children, and lift up their voice and implore your aid to 
arrest an evil which had made them desolate — could 

40 you disregard their cry ? Before their eyes could you 
approach the poll and patronize by your vote the de- 
stroyers of their peace ? Had you beheld a dying fa- 
ther, conveyed bleeding and agonizing to his distracted 
family : had you heard their piercing shrieks, and wit- 

45 nessed their frantic agony — would you reward the sav- 
age man who had plunged them in distress 1 Had the 
duellist destroyed your neighbor — had your own father 
been killed by the man who solicits your suffrage — had 
your son been brought to your door, pale in death, and 

50 weltering in blood, laid low by his hand — would you 
then think the crime a small one ? Would you honor 
with your confidence, and elevate to power by your vote, 
the guilty monster ? And what would you think of 
your neighbors, if, regardless of your agony, they 

55 should reward him ? And yet, such scenes of unuttera- 
ble anguish are multiplied every year. Every year the 
duellist is cutting down the neighbor of somebody. 
Every year, and many times in the year, a father is 
brought dead or dying to his family, or a son laid breath- 

60 less at the feet of his parents. And every year you are 
patronizing by your votes, the men who commit these 
crimes, and looking with cold indifference upon, and 
even mocking the sorrows of your neighbor. — Beware 
— I admonish you solemnly to beware, and especially 

65 such of you as have promising sons preparing for active 
life, lest, having no feeling for the sorrows of another, 
you be called to weep for your own sorrow ; lest your 
sons fall by the hand of the very murderer you vote for, 
or by the hand of some one whom his example has train- 

70 ed to the work of blood. 

With such considerations before you, why, in the 
33* 



390 exercises. [Ex. 108. 

name of heaven, do you wish to vote for such men ? 
What have they done for you — what can they do, that 
better men cannot as happily accomplish 1 And will 

75 you incur all this guilt and hazard all these consequen- 
ces for nothing ? Have you no religion — no conscience 
— no love to your country 1 No attachment to liberty 
— no humanity — no sympathy — no regard to your own 
welfare in this life ; and no fear of consequences in the 

80 life to come ? 

Oh, my countrymen, awake ! Awake to crimes which 
are your disgrace — to miseries which know not a limit 
— to judgments which will make you desolate. 

Beecher. 

108. Character of the Puritans. 

The puritans were men whose minds had derived a 
peculiar character from the daily contemplation of su- 
perior beings and eternal interests. Not content with 
acknowledging, in general terms, an overruling Prov- 
5 idence, they habitually ascribed every event to the will 
of the Great Being, for whose power nothing was too 
vast, for whose inspection nothing was too minute. To 
know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them 
the great end of existence. They rejected with con- 

10 tempt the ceremonious homage which other sects sub- 
stituted for the pure worship of the soul. Instead of 
catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through an 
obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the intolera- 
ble brightness, and to commune with him face to face. 

15 Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinc- 
tions. The difference between the greatest and mean- 
est of mankind seemed to vanish, when compared with 
the boundless interval which separated the whole race 
from him on whom their own eyes were constantly fix- 

20 ed. They recognized no title to superiority but his fa- 
vor ; and, confident of that favor, they despised all 
the accomplishments and all the dignities of the world. 
If they were unacquainted with the works of philoso- 
phers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of 

25 God. If their names were not found in the registers of 



Ex. 108.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 391 

heralds, they felt assured that they were recorded in the 
Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by 
a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering an- 
gels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses 

30 not made with hands : their diadems crowns of glory 
which should never fade away ! 

On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, 
they looked down with contempt : for they esteemed 
themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and elo- 

35 quent in a more sublime language, nobles by the right 
of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of 
a mightier hand. The very meanest of them was a be- 
ing to whose fate a mysterious and terrible importance 
belonged — on whose slightest action the spirits of light 

40 and darkness looked with anxious interest, who had 
been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to 
enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven and 
earth should have passed away. Events which short- 
sighted politicians ascribed to earthly causes, had been 

45 ordained on his account. For his sake empires had 
risen, and flourished, and decayed. For his sake the 
Almighty had proclaimed his will by the pen of the evan- 
gelist, and the harp of the prophet. He had been res- 
cued by no common deliverer from the grasp of no com- 

50 mon foe. He had been ransomed by the sweat of no 
vulgar agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It 
was for him that the sun had been darkened, that the 
rocks had been rent, that the dead had arisen, that all 
nature had shuddered at the sufferings of her expiring 

55 God! 

Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men, 
the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion ; 
the other proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He pros- 
trated himself in the dust before his Maker : but he set 

60 his foot on the neck of the king. In his devotional re- 
tirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and 
tears. He was half maddened by glorious or terrible il- 
lusions. He heard the lyres of angels, or the tempting 
whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the beatifick 

65 vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting 



■ - ^r- 



392 exercises. [Ex. 108. 

fire. Like Vane, he thought himself intrusted with the 
sceptre of the millenial year. Like Fleetwood, he cri- 
ed in the bitterness of his soul that God had hid his face 
from him. But, when he took his seat in the council, 

70 or girt on his sword for war, these tempestuous workings 
of the soul had left no perceptible trace behind them. 
People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth 
visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans 
and their hymns, might laugh at them. But those had 

75 litde reason to laugh who encountered them in the hall 
of debate, or in the field of battle. 

The Puritans brought to civil and military affairs, 
a coolness of judgment, and an immutability of purpose 
which some writers have thought inconsistent with their 

80 religious zeal, but which were in fact the necessary ef- 
fects of it. The intensity of their feelings on one sub- 
ject made them tranquil on every other. One overpow- 
ering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, 
ambition and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and pleas- 

85 ure its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, 
their raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things 
of this world. Enthusiasm had made them stoicks, had 
cleared their minds from every vulgar passion and 
prejudice, and raised them above the influence of dan- 

90 ger and of corruption. It sometimes might lead them to 
pursue unwise ends, but never to choose unwise means. 
They went through the world like St. Artegales's iron 
man Talus with his flail, crushing and trampling down 
oppressors, mingling with human beings, but having 

95 neither part nor lot in human infirmities : insensible to 
fatigue, to pleasure, and to pain : not to be pierced by 
any weapon, not to be withstood by any barrier. 

Such we believe to have been the character of the Pu- 
ritans. We perceive the absurdity of their manners. 

100 We dislike the gloom of their domestic habits. We 
acknowledge that the tone of their minds was often in- 
jured by straining after things too high for mortal reach : 
And we know that, in spite of their hatred of popery, 
they too often fell into the vices of that bad system, in- 

105 tolerance and extravagant austerity. Yet, when all cir- 
cumstances are taken into consideration, we do not hes- 



Ex. 109.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 393 

itate to pronounce them a brave, a wise, an honest, and 
an useful body. Edin. Review. 

109. An enlightened Ministry. 

Christianity now needs dispensers, who will make 
history, nature, and the improvements of society, tribu- 
tary to its elucidation and support ; who will show its 
adaptation to man as an ever progressive being ; who 
5 will be able to meet the objections to its truth, which 
will naturally be started in an active, stirring, inquiring 
age ; and, though last not least, who will have enough 
of mental and moral courage to detect and renounce the 
errors in the Church, on which such objections are gen- 

10 erally built. In such an age a ministry is wanted, 
which will furnish discussions of religious topics, not 
inferior at least in intelligence to those, which people 
are accustomed to read and hear on other subjects. 
Christianity will suffer, if at a time when vigor and 

15 acuteness of thinking are carried into all other depart- 
ments, the pulpit should send forth nothing but wild dec- 
lamation, positive assertion, or dull common places, 
, with which even childhood is satiated. Religion must 
be seen to be the friend and quickener of intellect. It 

20 must be exhibited with clearness of reasoning and varie- 
ty of illustration ; nor ought it to be deprived of the 
benefits of a pure and felicitous diction, and of rich and 
glowing imagery, where these gifts fall to the lot of the 
teacher. It is not meant that every minister must be 

25 a man of genius ; for genius is one of God's rarest in- 
spirations ; and of all the beamings and breathings of 
genius, perhaps the rarest is eloquence. I mean only 
to say, that the age demands of those, who devote them- 
selves to the administration of Christianity, that they 

30 should feel themselves called upon for the highest culti- 
vation and fullest development of the intellectual nature. 
Instead of thinking, that the ministry is a refuge for 
dulness, and that whoever can escape from the plough 
is fit for God's spiritual husbandry, we ought to feel that 

35 no profession demands more enlarged thinking and 
more various acquisitions of truth, 



394 exercises. [Ex. 110. 

In proportion as society becomes enlightened, talent 
acquires influence. In rude ages bodily strength is the 
most honorable distinction, and in subsequent times 

40 military prowess and skill confer mastery and eminence. 
But as society advances, mind, thought, becomes the 
sovereign of the world ; and accordingly, at the present 
moment, profound and glowing thought, though breath- 
ing only from the silent page, exerts a kind cf omnipo- 

45 tent and omnipresent energy. It crosses oceans and 
spreads through nations ; and at one and the same mo- 
ment, the conceptions of a single mind are electrifying 
and kindling multitudes, through wider regions than 
the Roman Eagle overshadowed. This agency of mind 

50 on mind, I repeat it, is the true sovereignty of the world, 
and kings and heroes are becoming impotent by the 
side of men of deep and fervent thought. In such a 
state of things, Religion would wage a very unequal 
war, if divorced from talent and cultivated intellect, if 

55 committed to weak and untaught minds. God plainly 
intends, that it should be advanced by human agency ; 
and does he not then intend, to summon to its aid the 
mightiest and noblest power with which man is gifted ? 

Charming. 

110. Prayer. 

Prayer is an action of likeness to the Holy Ghost, 
the spirit of gentleness and dove-like simplicity ; an 
imitation of the holy Jesus, whose spirit is meek up 
to the greatness of the biggest example, and a con- 
5 formity to God, whose anger is always just, and march- 
es slowly, and is without transportation, and often hin- 
dered, and never hasty, and is full of mercy : prayer is 
the peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, the 
evenness of recollection, the seat of meditation, the rest 

10 of our cares, and the cairn of our tempest ; prayer is 
the issue of a quiet mind, of untroubled thoughts, it is 
the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness ; and 
he that prays to God with an angry, that is, with a troub- 
led and discomposed spirit, is like him that retires into 

15 a battle to meditate, and sets up his closet in the out 
quarters of an army, and chooses a frontier garrison to be 



Ex. 111.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 395 

wise in. Anger is a perfect alienation of the mind 
from prayer, and therefore is contrary to that attention, 
which presents our prayers in a right line to God. For 
20 so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and 
soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get 
to heaven, and climb above the clouds ; but the poor 
bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an 
eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and incon- 
25 stant, descending more at every breath of the tempest, 
than it could recover by the libration and frequent 
weighing of his wings ; till the little creature was 
forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm was 
over, and then it made a prosperous flight, and did rise 
30 and sing as if it had learned music and motion from an 
angel, as he passed sometimes through the air about 
his ministeries here below : so is the prayer of a good 
man ; when his affairs have required business, and his 
business was matter of discipline, and his discipline was 
35 to pass upon a sinning person, or had a design of chari- 
ty, his duty met with the infirmities of a man, and an- 
ger was its instrument, and the instrument became 
stronger than the prime agent, and raised a tempest and 
overruled the man ; and then his prayer was broken, 
40 and his thoughts were troubled, and his words went up 
towards a cloud, and his thoughts pulled them back 
again, and made them without intention : and the good 
man sighs for his infirmity, but must be content to lose 
the prayer, and he must recover it, when his anger 
45 is removed, and his spirit is becalmed, made even as 
the brow of Jesus, and smooth like the heart of God ; 
and then it ascends to heaven upon the wings of the 
holy dove, and dwells with God, till it returns like 
the useful bee, loaden with a blessing and the dew of 
50 heaven. Jer. Taylor. 

111. Gray's Elegy. 

1 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way 
And leaves the world to darkness — and to me. 



396 exercises. [Ex.111. 

2 Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight, 

And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 

3 Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r, 

The moping owl does to the Moon complain 
Of such, as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

4 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, 

Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, 
Each in its narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

5 Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, 
The place of fame and elegy supply : 

And many a holy text around she strews, 
That teach the rustic moralist to die. 

6 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 

This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, 
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind 1 

7 On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 

Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

8 For thee, who, mindful of the unhonor'd dead, 

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 

9 Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 

" Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, 
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away, 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn : 

10 There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
That wreaths its old fantastic roots so high, 
His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that bubbles by. 



Ex. 112.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. s 397 

11 Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, 

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn, 

Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 

12 One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill. 

Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree : 
Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; 

13 The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 

Slow thro' the church-yard path we saw him borne ; 
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

14 Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, 

A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown ; 
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. 

15 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 

Heav'n did a recompense as largely send ; 
He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear; 

He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. 

16 No farther seek his merits to disclose, 

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, ' 
(There they alike in trembling hope repose) 

The bosom of his father and his God. Gray. 

112. Obligation to the Heathen. 

Let me never fall into the hands of the man, who, 
while he refuses to aid the missionary efforts of his 
brethren, coolly says that he submits the fate of the 
heathen to God. Do you call this submission ? Put 
5 it to the test ; — does it preserve you equally composed 
by the bed of your dying child ? While the pressure of 
private afflictions can torture your soul, call not the ap- 
athy with which you view nations sinking into hopeless 
ruin, — call it not submission, nor bring the government 
10 of God to sanction a temper as cruel as it is common. 
34 



39 8 EXERCISES. Ex. 11 



Will the government of God convert the heathen with- 
out the means of grace 1 What nation was ever so con- 
verted ? It is contrary to the established method of di- 
_ vine grace. " How shall they believe in him of whom 

15 they have not heard ? And how shall they hear with- 
out a preacher 1" No, my brethren, missionaries must 
go among them ; and they must be supported. They 
cannot support themselves ; they cannot derive support 
from the heathen; nor can they expect to be fed by 

20 ravens. Who then shall sustain the expense if not the 
christian world ? and what portion of the christian 
world rather than the American churches 1 and what 
district of these churches rather than that in which we 
are assembled ? and what individuals rather than our- 

25 selves ? Heaven has given us the means ; we are living 
in prosperity on the very lands from which the wretched 
pagans have been ejected ; from the recesses of whose 
wilderness a moving cry is heard, When it is well with 
you, think of poor Indians. This is not ideal ; we have 

30 recieved such messages written with their tears. 

I have nothing to spare, is the plea of sordid reluc- 
tance. But a far different sentiment will be formed 
amidst the scenes of the last day. Men now persuade 
themselves that they have nothing to spare till they can 

35 support a certain style of luxury, and have provided for 
the establishment of children. But in the awful hour 
when you, and I, and all the pagan nations, shall be 
called from our graves to stand before the bar of Christ, 
what comparison will these objects bear to the salvation 

40 of a single soul 1 Eternal mercy ! let not the blood 
of heathen millions, in that hour, be found in our skirts ! 
— Standing, as I now do, in sight of a dissolving uni- 
verse, beholding the dead arise, the world in flames, 
the heavens fleeing away, all nations convulsed with 

45 terror, or rapt in the vision of the lamb, — I pronounce 
the conversion of a single pagan of more value than all 
the wealth that ever omnipotence produced. On such 
an awful subject it becomes me to speak with caution. 
But I solemnly aver, that were there but one heathen 

50 in the world, and he in the remotest corner of Asia, if 



i 



Ex. 113.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 399 

no greater duty confined us at home, it would be worth 
the pains for all the people in America to embark to- 
gether to carry the gospel to him. Place your soul in 
his soul's stead. Or rather consent for a moment to 

55 change condition with the savages on our borders. 
Were you posting on to the judgment of the great day, 
in the darkness and pollution of pagan idolatry, and 
were they living in wealth in this very district of the 
church, how hard would it seem for your neighbors to 

60 neglect your misery ! When you should open your 
eyes in the eternal world, and discover the ruin in which 
they had suffered you to remain, how would you re- 
proach them that they did not even sell their posses- 
sions, if no other means were sufficient to send the gos- 

60 pel to you. My flesh trembles at the prospect ! — But 
they shall not reproach us. It shall be known in heav- 
en that we could pity our brethren. We will send 
them all the relief in our power, and will enjoy the 
luxury of reflecting what happiness we may entail on 

70 generations yet unborn, if we can only effect the con- 
version of a single tribe. Griffin. 

113. Infatuation of men with regard to the things of time. 

But if no danger is to be apprehended while the thun- 
der of heaven rolls at a distance, believe me, when it 
collects over our heads, we may be fatally convinced, 
that a well-spent life is the only conducter that can a- 
5 vert the bolt. Let us reflect, that time waits for no man. 
Sleeping or waking, our days are on the wing. If we look 
to those that are past, they are but as a point. When 
I compare the present aspect of this city, with that 
which it exhibited within the short space of my own 

10 residence, what does the result present, but the most 
melancholy proof of human instability 1 New charac- 
ters in every scene, new events, new principles, new 
passions, a new creation insensibly arisen from the ash- 
es of the old ; which side soever I look, the ravage of 

15 death has nearly renovated all. Scarcely do we look 
around us in life, when our children are matured, and 
remind us of the grave ; the great feature of all nature, 



400 exercises. [Ex. 113. 

is rapidity of growth and declension. Ages are renew- 
ed, but the figure of the world passeth away. God on- 
30 ly remains the same. The torrent that sweeps by, runs 
at the base of his immutability; and he sees, with in- 
dignation, wretched mortals, as they pass along, insult- 
ing him by the visionary hope of sharing that attribute, 
which belongs to Him alone. 
25 It is to the incomprehensible oblivion of our mortali- 
ty, that the world owes all its fascination. Observe for 
what man toils. Observe what it often costs him to be- 
\ come rich and great — dismal vicissitudes of hope and 

11 disappointment — often all that can degrade the dignity 

lj 30 of his nature, and offend his God ! Study the matter of 

'/ the pedestal, and the instability of the statue. — Scarce 

is it erected — scarce presented to the stare of the multi- 
tude — when death, staring like a massy fragment from 
the summit of a mountain, dashes the proud colossus 
35 into dust ! Where, then, is the promised fruit of all 
his toil ? Where the wretched and deluded being, who 
fondly promised himself that he had laid up much goods 
for many years ? — Gone, my brethren, to his account, a 
naked victim, trembling in the hands of the living God ! 
40 Yes, my brethren, the final catastrophe of all human pas- 
sions, is rapid as it is awful. Fancy yourselves on that 
bed from which you never shall arise, and the reflection 
will exhibit like a true and faithful mirror, what shadows 
we are, and what shadows we pursue. Happy they 
45 who meet that great, inevitable transition, full of days ! 
Unhappy they who meet it but to tremble and despair ! 
Then it is that man learns wisdom, when too late ; 
then it is that every thing will forsake him, but his vir- 
tues or his crimes. To him the world is past ; digni- 
50 ties, honors, pleasure, glory ; past like the cloud of the 
morning ! nor could all that the great globe inherits, af- 
ford him at the tremendous hour, as much consolation, 
as the recollection of having given but one cup of cold 
water to a child of wretchedness, in the name of Christ 
55 Jesus ! Kirwan, 



114.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 401 



114. Death of Hamilton. 

A short time since, and he who is the occasion of our 
sorrows, was the ornament of his country. He stood on 
an eminence ; and glory covered him. From that em- 

i inence he has fallen — suddenly, forever, fallen. His 
5 intercourse with the living world is now ended ; and 
those who would hereafter find him must seek him in 
the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which 
just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and 
sightless is the eye, whose radient and enlivening orb 
.0 beamed with intelligence ; and there, closed forever 
are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so 
often and so lately hung with transport. 

From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there 
proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen 

15 that those gaudy objects which 4 men pursue are only 
phantoms. In this light how dirtily shines the splendor 
of victory — how humble appears the majesty of gran- 
deur. The bubble which seemed to have so much so- 
lidity has burst : and we again see that all below the sun 

20 is inanity. 

True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The 
sad and solemn procession has moved. The badge of 
mourning has already been decreed, and presently the 
sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpet- 

25 uate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing 
traveller his virtues. 

Just tributes of respect ! And to the living useful. 
But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble hab- 
itation, what are they? — How vain ? how unavailing? 

30 Approach, and behold — while I lift from his sepul- 
chre its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye em- 
ulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold 
him now. How pale ! how silent ! No martial bands 
admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinat- 

35 ed throng weep — and melt — and tremble at his elo- 
quence ! — Amazing change. A shroud ! a coffin ! a 
narrow subterraneous cabin ! This is all that now re- 
mains of Hamilton ! And is this all that remains of 



402 exercises. [Ex.115. 

him ? — During a life so transitory, what lasting monu- 
40 ment then can our fondest hopes erect? 

My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful 
gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is 
there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, noth- 
ing abiding, nothing immortal, on which poor, frail, dy- 
45 ing man can fasten ? 

Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you 

have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. 

He will tell you, did I say ? He has already told you, 

i from his death-bed, and his illumined spirit still whis- 

« 50 pers from the heavens, with well known eloquence, the 

J i solemn admonition. 

I] " Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the com- 

j panions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my 

errors — Cultivate the virtues I have recommended — 
55 Choose the Savior I have chosen — Live disinterestedly 
— Live for immortality ; and would you rescue any 
thing from final dissolution, lay it up in God." Nott. 

115. The Crucifixion. 

When our Redeemer expired on the cross, sympa- 
thizing nature was convulsed ! The sun was suddenly 
enveloped in midnight darkness, and confusion reigned ! 
But I shall pass by these terrific events, in order to lead 
5 your attention to more important objects. The cross 
erected on Mount Calvary was the standard of victory, 
to which even thought was to be led captive, and before 
which imaginations were to be cast down ; that is to 
say, human wisdom and skeptic reluctance. No voice 

10 sublime was heard sounding from a thunder-bearing 
cloud, as of old from the heights of Sinai ! No approach 
was observed of that formidable Majesty, before whom 
the mountains melt as wax ! Where, where was the 
warlike preparation of that power which was to subdue 

15 the world 1 See the whole artillery collected on Mount 
Calvary, in the exhibition of a cross, of an agonizing 
Sufferer, and a crown of thorns ! 

Religious truth was exiled from the earth, and idola- 



Ex. 115.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 403 



try sat brooding over the moral world. The Egyptians, 
20 the fathers of philosophy, the Grecians, the inventors of 
the fine arts, the Romans, the conquerors of the uni- 
verse, were all unfortunately celebrated for the perver- 
sion of religious worship, for the gross errors they ad- 
mitted into their belief, and the indignities they offered 
25 to the true religion. Minerals, vegetables, animals, the 
elements, became objects of adoration ; even abstract 
visionary forms, such as fevers and distempers, received 
the honors of deification : and to the most infamous 
vices, and dissolute passions, altars were erected. The 

30 world, which God had made to manifest his power, 
seemed to have become a temple of idols, where every 
thing was god but God himself? 

The mystery of the crucifixion was the remedy the 
Almighty ordained for this universal idolatry. He knew 

35 the mind of man, and knew that it was not by reason- 
ing an error must be destroyed, which reasoning had 
not established. Idolatry prevailed by the suppres- 
sion of reason, by suffering the senses to predominate, 
which are apt to clothe every thing with the qualities 

40 with which they are affected. Men gave the Divinity 
their own figure, and attributed to him their vices and 
passions. Reasoning had no share in so brutal an er- 
ror. It was a subversion of reason, a delirium, a phren- 
sy. Argue with a phrenetic person, you do but the 

45 more provoke him, and render the distemper incurable. 
Neither will reasoning cure the delirium of idolatry. 
What has learned antiquity gained by her elaborate dis- 
courses ? her reasonings so artfully framed ? Did Pla- 
to, with that eloquence which was styled divine, over- 

50 throw one single altar where monstrous divinities were 
worshipped 1 Experience hath shown that the overthrow 
of idolatry could not be the work of reason alone. Far 
from committing to human wisdom the cure of such a 
malady, God completed its confusion by the mystery of 

55 the cross. Idolatry (if rightly understood) took its rise 
from that profound self-attachment inherent in our na- 
ture. Thus it was that the Pagan mythology teemed 
with deities who were subject to human passions, weak- 



404 



EXERCISES. 



[Ex. 115. 



nesses, and vices. When the mysterious cross display- 
60 ed to the world an agonizing Redeemer, incredulity ex- 
claimed it was foolishness ! But the darkening sun, na- 
ture convulsed, the dead arising from their graves, said 
it was wisdom ! JBossuet. 



END. 



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